Two Birds, One Stone
by Mahala
Summary: The impossible had just occurred. The inconceivable. The unthinkable. Mac Taylor had walked away from a crime scene. Mac/Jo, Don/OC, cameos from the rest of the team and guest appearances by Russ and Detective Brennan! Complete!
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Don Flack was staring thoughtfully at the body when Lindsay walked up stifling a yawn. "Short night?" he asked with a rueful smile.

"Yeah couldn't get Lucy to settle. She was totally hyper after a birthday party yesterday afternoon. Far too much candy and pop if you ask me." She ran a hand through her hair. Despite a cool shower and an air-conditioned ride she still felt sticky. " And it's just so hot!"

Lindsay put her case down glad to be in the relative cool of the parking garage. Despite the early hour the temperature was already climbing steadily and the forecasters were promising a seasonal record. She sighed heavily as she pulled on her gloves and swiftly took in the scene before her. The young woman lay on her back her arms bent up at the elbows like a young baby in a deep slumber, her head turned slightly to one side, a faint smile gracing her lips. It was almost if she had fallen asleep there but for the harsh red mark around her neck. "She's young. You got an ID?"

"No." Don pointed to the purse, a white leather clutch with a thumb-twist latch and a thin leather strap, lying on the ground next to the victim. "Purse is empty. I talked to the night-watchman who found her..." Don turned to his right to indicate a man in his late fifties with a small goatee and a worried expression who was giving a statement to a uniformed officer a few feet away. " ...he's pretty shaken by the way. He didn't recognize her but swears she wasn't here when he did his previous round at 3am. So we're looking at sometime between 3:12am and 6:12 am." At Lindsay's surprised look, Don shrugged. "Apparently after eight years he's got it down to a fine art. I'm telling ya' Linds – that'll be me in twenty years time … if I live that long!" Lindsay grinned at him and shook her head in amusement. "Anyway there's a security camera at the entrance and exit but not on each floor. It's all saved to a central hard drive in the security guard's office. I'll get a copy of the footage sent over to you as soon as we're done here." Don paused for a second before adding. "Is it just me or is there something odd about her?"

Lindsay looked at him sharply but Don continued to stare down at the young woman at his feet with a puzzled expression on his face. "You mean other than the fact she looks like she's come from a 70's party or is seriously into retro clothing?" she asked contemplating the young woman's apparel. The dark wool A-line skirt and flesh coloured stockings seemed heavy for the weather they'd been having and the purple, black, orange and white polyester blouse with it's bell sleeves and huge collar seemed to hark back to a different era as did the platform shoes and the purse.

Don tore his eyes away from the victim to look at Lindsay for a second. "Well … yeah there's that but … it's almost as though she's been..." Don searched desperately for the right word. "... arranged … like that."

Lindsay nodded thoughtfully as she pulled her camera from her case. "Yeah. I know what you mean." The camera flashed repeatedly as Lindsay took overall shots then twice more as she took closer shots of the purse. Watching where she put her feet she moved round to take a close-up of the girl's face. She was young, perhaps eighteen or nineteen. Pretty with long dark hair brushed into a central parting, the feathered hair at the front drawn into two wings that framed her small heart-shaped face. Lindsay shuddered involuntarily. Cases involving young girls always got to her but she took a deep breath and, with a steely resolve, she pushed away the memories it brought to the surface and focussed the camera on the young girl's neck where the thin red line marred her pale white skin. "Evidence of strangulation." Lindsay bent down to gently pull back one of the girl's eyelids. "Strange. No sign of petechial haemorrhaging. " She lifted one of the girl's arms and studied her hands and forearms. "No defensive wounds." Lindsay took a few more close-up shots before putting aside her camera and swept her pen-light slowly back and forth carefully examining the clothing for trace. "No obvious trace. No scuff marks. No signs of a struggle and her clothes appear to have been straightened out … as though someone has smoothed them down."

"So you agree it's a dump job?" asked Don.

Lindsay nodded as she looked around the parking garage. "There's no indication to show she was killed here."

"And what's with the petals?"

Lindsay shrugged as she studied the dozen or so crimson leaves that littered the ground either side of the body. "They almost look as though they've been scattered around the body but there's no sign of the rose they came from. It's a deliberate act. But why?" She sighed. "Red roses signify love or passion. Could be a sign of remorse! Could be a signature!"

"A serial?" Don asked tentatively.

"Too early to say. Any sign of the murder weapon?" Lindsay asked hopefully.

Don grinned. "Was hoping you could give us a better idea of what we're looking for? No chance it was the strap of the bag?"

Lindsay looked at the strap and then more closely at the marks on the young girl's neck. "Well I wouldn't want to rule it out at this stage but no … the marks are quite distinctive. At first glance I would say a chain more like a necklace. Sid will be able help with that."

"I'm gonna look around and see if I can find anything else ... Oh here's Mac." Lindsay turned round as Don raised a hand in greeting as Mac walked towards them, his shirt sleeves already rolled up. Mac dipped his head in greeting.

"Morning Mac." Lindsay stepped aside to allow him to see the scene looking once more as she did so at the odd clothes the girl was wearing. Lindsay waited for Mac to ask his ubiquitous 'who found the body' question but he didn't say anything. Lindsay dragged her eyes away from the scene. As soon as she did so she realized that Mac had stopped abruptly a couple of feet away. He was staring at the body his eyes narrowed, his brows drawn together in a deep frown, his lips slightly apart. The blood seemed to drain from his face as his mind registered what it was seeing and he wavered ever so slightly.

"Mac?"

When he didn't answer, Lindsay moved closer, gently laying her hand on his arm. "Mac, do you know her?"

As though pulled from a dream, his body jerking involuntarily, Mac looked at Lindsay, his eyes devoid of all emotion. "No … er ... I've never seen her before in my life..." he whispered. "Call Jo." And before she realized what was happening Mac had whirled around and was gone.

Lindsay stared at his retreating back before turning to look at Don questioningly, her brain unable to comprehend what had just occurred. "Can you tell me what just happened?" she asked her voice uncertain and fearful. Don didn't reply as he, like Lindsay stared at the space where Mac had been moments before, because the impossible had just occurred. The inconceivable. The unthinkable. Mac Taylor had walked away from a crime scene.

.

"_CSI:NY – CSI:NY – CSI:NY"_

.

"Lindsay?" Jo strode across the garage threading her way between the cars. Lindsay turned around and waved. "What's going on? I thought Mac was handling this." Jo had picked up on the waver in Lindsay's voice in their earlier phone call and, for some reason, she now had an empty feeling in the pit of her stomach. She put down her case and looked at Lindsay who suddenly seemed nervous.

"He was here … but he left ..." Lindsay looked nonplussed unable to come up with a reason as to why Mac had suddenly walked out. Jo looked at her in consternation and then at Don who looked almost as lost.

"What do you mean he left?" Jo pressed, her head flicking back and forth between the two of them sensing that something had clearly upset them both.

"He walked up, took one look at her and told me to call you … and then he left." Lindsay looked at Don.

"Does he know her?" asked Jo thinking the same thing that Lindsay had thought earlier. If there is a connection to a victim, any CSI must detach themselves from the case.

"Well there's the thing. Lindsay asked him that and he said no ... but Jo I'm telling ya' …" Don hesitated for a second as he tried to come up with an explanation for Mac's strange behaviour. "He went as white as a sheet but he said that he'd never seen her before in his life. Jo, he was lying!" Don ran his hand through his hair and turned away. "He was lying." He muttered again to himself unable to believe that his friend, his mentor, one of the people he most looked up to in the world would lie to his face.

Jo couldn't believe what she was hearing. There had to be an explanation. She took a quick look at the body. "What have you found so far?"

"Very little. There are no signs of a struggle and no sign of a murder weapon. There are signs of strangulation but no defensive wounds or petechial haemorrhaging. No ID. And, according to the security guard, she had to have been dumped here between 3am and 6am. Don's getting footage from the entry surveillance cameras sent over to Adam."

Jo looked up as Don's phone rang. He listened for a moment and spun round, his attention focussed on the other side of the garage. With a brief word of thanks, he hung up and walked over to an ancient-looking Ford Bronco with Land of Lincoln registration plates parked incongruously between a Mercedes coupé and a shiny new Impala. He swung a flash-light around the interior. Peering through the wind-shield he tried to see into the back but the windows had been blacked out. Don tried the door but it was locked. Curious Jo and Lindsay joined him.

"What's up Don?" asked Jo.

"I got my guys to check the plates of all the cars in here starting with this floor. This Bronco was reported stolen a month ago. Back windows are blacked out which is strange." Don turned to the security guard who together with the uniformed officer were both looking in their direction wondering what was so interesting. Raising his voice Don called over. "Mr Domingez, was this Bronco parked in this spot last night?" The older man nodded. Turning to Jo, Don continued. "I'll get Adam to check this out on the surveillance footage. There might be a link."

"There is definitely a link!" announced Lindsay who was peering through the passenger side window. Jo and Don turned to look at her curiously. "There's a rose stem devoid of petals in the foot-well!"

.

"_CSI:NY – CSI:NY – CSI:NY"_

.

The elevator pinged quietly as Jo and Lindsay entered autopsy. They were surprised to see Danny and Sheldon deep in conversation with Sid. Out of curiosity they both approached and looked at the body of a young man in his early twenties, his pale face, peaceful in death, almost seemed to be smiling.

Sid unclipped his glasses. "Ah. I'm glad you're both here." All three men looked at them very seriously.

"Sid?" asked Jo hesitantly immediately sensing that something was perturbing him.

Sid held up a hand. "First things first." He moved over to the second table and pulled back the blue cloth to reveal the head and shoulders of the young woman they had found in the parking garage. "I've already sent her clothes up to trace. TOD was between 9pm and 11pm last night. Despite the evidence of strangulation, the cause of death is drug overdose. "

"What?" Both women looked stunned.

"I'm running a tox screen now but probably some form of barbiturate. She was then strangled with a chain like this ..." Sid handed over a file with close-up photographs of a single link chain. "... almost certainly a necklace of some sort. She was certainly not breathing at the time but strangulation was close to TOD. No sexual activity. Her stomach contents reveal the remnants of pills and hamburger, fries and strawberry milkshake. And now for our second victim ..." Before Jo and Lindsay could say anything, Sid again held up a hand and moved back to the young man. Danny and Sheldon hadn't moved. They stood at the other side of the table in identical positions, their arms crossed and their faces serious. Sid picked up another file. "This is Marcus James Levy, 23 years old from Cherry Valley, Illinois. Found this morning in The Pond. COD is drowning. His stomach contents reveal the remnants of pills, hamburger, fries and strawberry milkshake. Approximate time of death, between 4am and 6am this morning. The only things found on him were his wallet with driver's licence and thirty-three dollars in cash and in his back pocket..." Sid held up a plastic wallet with a small battered photograph of a young woman in tight jeans and a bright pink tee-shirt. "... a picture of your Jane Doe."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N. Thank you dear reviewers and followers. Glad you liked the start. Only hope that the rest lives up to your expectations. No, UrbanMuse, I cheated! This story has been on the backburner for a very long time. The plot had gone off track faster than a derailed train when my summer decended into chaos. So I picked it up again when things calmed down. The plot still has more holes than a sea-sponge but if I don't say anything perhaps no one will notice! :-D  
**

**Chapter 2**

The tension in the conference room was almost palpable. Danny lay back in his chair trying to look at ease but the jiggling of his pen, tapping incessantly on the notepad gave away his nervousness. He kept glancing at Lindsay and Don as though they must somehow have been mistaken, and then at the corridor as if Mac was about to walk in and explain everything.

Sheldon looked down at the two preliminary autopsy reports again. He was thinking the same thing as Danny as he perused the two reports. He jumped as Jo, clearly irritated by getting yet another voice-mail message, slammed her phone down on the table. "Dammit! Where the hell is he?"

"Maybe we could … you know … run a trace?" Adam muttered hesitantly earning a few stares. "Or .. maybe not."

They all looked up as Sid made his entrance waving a manilla folder. "Okay tox screen came back. Your vic had a massive dose of phenobarbital in her system. Our male vic had the same drug but in much smaller quantities and certainly not enough to kill him."

Jo seated herself slowly as Don gave his staccato version of the events from the information they had so far. "Marcus brings Jane Doe to New York in a stolen Ford Bronco ... shares a Happy Meal, drugs her, strangles her, drives her to the station parking lot, carefully arranges her body, scatters rose petals … and the being so overcome with remorse he abandons the Bronco and drowns himself in Central Park."

"That's one potential scenario but we have no proof that Marcus actually killed her." Jo waved a hand before unconsciously picking up her pendant and swinging it in a circle, her actions unconsciously mirroring the thoughts gyrating inside her mind.

"We know they arrived at the motel together. One of the maids confirms seeing them entering their room in the early evening with a take-away." Danny flipped over the page. "We have their prints on the faucet in the bathroom, the door handles and the night stands. There is no evidence of drugs in the room."

"We also have their prints in the Bronco … on the steering wheel, the dash and the seat-belts though a lot of them are smeared." Lindsay noted absent-mindedly. "So at some time they must both have driven the car. Doesn't sound like he kidnapped her unless he forced her drive."

"Well she definitely wasn't in the front of the car when they arrived at the parking lot." Adam hit a key on the computer in front of him. A grainy video played on the main display board showing the Ford Bronco with a single occupant arriving at the garage, the time-stamp showing 12:32am. Hitting a few more keys the image froze and zoomed in on the driver. The baseball cap pulled low hid his face but they could make out a dark chequered shirt. A series of green lines highlighted the image before the screen split to show Marcus' DMV photograph. A comparison of corporal features showed a 90% match.

"So what are we looking at? A suicide pact but then why leave her in a public parking garage? A murder-suicide?" asked Don.

"We need to ID this girl and find out what the relationship is between them. Don, can you reach out to Illinois police departments? Danny, Lindsay see if you can find some evidence that proves that Marcus killed her. Sheldon could you work with Sid to see if you can give us a better time-line as to how much pheobarbital they took and when they would have taken it?" Jo picked up the photograph they had found in Marcus Levy's hand. "Adam, focus on the clothing our Jane Doe was wearing. Judging from this photograph it's not the kind of thing she would normally wear. See if you can find a reason why and how she got hold of it."

As they each nodded in turn, Jo's phone rang. She frowned before she answered it with a curt yes. She listened for a moment. "We'll be right there.". Jo put down her phone as she looked at Don.

"Don, Sinclair wants to see us in his office. Now."

.

"_CSI:NY – CSI:NY – CSI:NY"_

.

Adam was half-way through the door as Lindsay dashed down the corridor before coming to a sliding stop near the rest-rooms, the words coming tumbling from her mouth. "Jo needs us in the conference room … now!" Adam was left open-mouthed as she whirled around and disappeared back down the hallway.

"Close the door Adam." Adam pushed the door to, looking questioningly at Danny and Sheldon who had resumed their earlier stance with their arms folded across their chests as though to protect themselves from what was coming. Don was stood with his back to the room staring out of the window. Adam quietly slid into a chair next to Sid with the feeling that something bad had happened or was about to. If the atmosphere had been tense during the previous brief meeting earlier that afternoon, it was nothing compared to now. Lindsay was looking intently at Jo as she fingered a large brown envelope nervously in her hands. Slowly Jo placed it on the desk in front of her and took a deep breath.

"As you know, Chief Sinclair called me to his office earlier this afternoon. As of this morning Mac is taking a leave of absence for personal reasons. I will be acting head of the crime lab until further notice. "

"_What?_"

"_How long?_"

"_Why?_"

Jo held up her hand to halt everyone in their tracks. "Officially Mac is taking a short leave of absence for personal reasons." she repeated. "Unofficially ..." Jo hesitated once more.

"... he's not coming back is he?" Adam blurted out, voicing what the others in the room dare not let themselves think.

"Unofficially … Mac has tendered his resignation which will be announced at some future date when … when Chief Sinclair deems it to be appropriate … that's to say when it will do the least damage to the department." The gasps in the room were audible, as was the snort of disgust from Don. "Under no circumstances is this information to leave this room. Do you understand?"

Everyone nodded. Again it was Adam who asked the question that was on everyone's minds. "Why?"

Jo reached across the table and, flipping open a folder, she pulled out one of the pictures Lindsay had taken that morning and placed it in the centre of the table turning it so they could all see. Everyone glanced at the now familiar photograph of their Jane Doe lying on the cold grey floor of the parking garage. Jo then opened the brown envelope and pulled out a faded and dog-eared manilla folder with a paper-clip part way along the top edge. Carefully she placed it on the table as though she feared it may fall apart in her hands. She opened it and pulled a faded colour photograph from under the clip on the inside page. Trying to hide the tremble in her hands she placed it next to the brightly coloured photograph. Silence reigned for a few minutes as everyone leaned forward to compare the two pictures.

"They're almost identical." Lindsay breathed as her eyes flicked between the two images. "Oh good lord! This is a copy-cat killing. Who is she?" Lindsay's heart leapt as she looked up at Jo and realized that the older woman was on the verge of tears.

"Her name is Maria Gwyneth Taylor." Jo's fingers fluttered in front of her lips. "She's Mac's sister." If Jo hadn't be so upset at seeing the contents of the file that Mac had left with Sinclair she would have laughed at that moment seeing five jaws drop in unison. "She was murdered in Chicago thirty years ago – to the day."

Danny was the first to recover the power of speech. He rocked back in his seat running his hands through his hair. "This is crazy. Mac's never mentioned he had a sister. He's never breathed a word. I mean ... why would Marcus James Levy deliberately set up this murder to make it look like the murder of Mac's sister? … How did he even know about the murder of Mac's sister? I mean it was before he was born. " Danny's voice trailed away as the questions surged into his mind too quickly for him to verbalize.

Sheldon's jaw was set hard as he cut to the chase. He reached across and gently pulled the old file towards him. "Did they catch the person who killed her?"

Jo shook her head immediately knowing where Sheldon as headed with this. "No. At the time, the investigation focussed on a local boy called Curtis Stone. They suspected him of stalking Maria but there was no proof that he murdered her and his family provided him with an alibi."

"Where is he now?" asked Lindsay.

Jo sighed. "According to the file he died two weeks after Maria was killed. He was pulled out of the Chicago river. Official verdict was accidental death although many at the time thought he had murdered Maria and that he had killed himself in remorse."

"It says here that the police believe Maria was strangled with her own necklace. It was a family heirloom that she always wore though the police never found it. They assumed that the killer had taken it with him." Sheldon flipped through the file quickly absorbing the details of the autopsy reports. "Curtis Stone died from drowning although he had various cuts and bruises possibly from a fight but the exact cause was difficult to determine due to the length of time he spent in the water. No mention of drugs, alcohol or sexual assault but they probably didn't run very sophisticated tests back then."

"I don't suppose there's a picture of the necklace?" Lindsay asked leaning forward. Sheldon flipped through the file that had a dozen photocopies, some photos and newspaper clippings. but it was Jo that answered.

"Yes there is." She sighed heavily as she sank into a chair with her head in her hands. "At the end of the file." Sheldon turned to the back of the folder and pulled out a photograph. Maria Gwyneth Taylor smiled at the camera as she sat formally in front of a photographer's blue marble-effect background, her long dark hair brushed into a central parting, the feathered hair at the front drawn into two wings that framed her small heart-shaped face. She wore a white dress, her hands held a single red rose and around her neck hung a necklace.

"Oh my God!" Danny breathed the moment he set eyes on it, his face a mask of horror. "I've seen that necklace before."

Adam looked at him confused. "What? Where? I thought Sheldon just said the police never found it."

"They didn't." Everyone turned to look at Don who for the first time turned away from the window. "That's because Mac had it … has it. It's the crucifix he wears around his neck under his shirt."

Adam looked shocked. "But that would mean ..."

"... that either Mac took it from his sister's body … or from his sister's murderer."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N. WOW! Thank you all for the encouraging comments! Am so glad you all liked the start. Gosh I hope you like the rest. On with the story. :-D  
**

**Chapter 3**

Don's words rang in Jo's head until she thought it would burst. There had to be an explanation but why hadn't Mac just sat down with them and explained. They would have understood but by just leaving everyone now felt that he had something to hide. That he had done something wrong. Sinclair had made it abundantly clear that he had told Mac to keep a low profile but to have disappeared without a word to anyone ... well not quite without a word …

_Having left Sinclair's office with orders to investigate both cases with the utmost discretion and report directly back to him, Jo and Don had found a quiet space by the coffee machine on the eighth floor. Jo had opened the envelope that Sinclair had given them and pulled out the file. The first thing she saw was a yellow post-it note. She sensed rather than saw Don close his eyes as he read the two words printed in Mac's distinctive handwriting: 'Forgive me.'_

As though he knew what she was thinking Don gently placed his hand on top of hers. "It's gonna' be all right Jo. You'll see."

"Oh Don. I know that Sinclair ordered him to keep away from the office in case the press got hold of this but why hasn't he called us? Why did he just leave?" Tears threatened to spill from her eyes. She waved her hand to indicate that she didn't expect him to answer. Don was grateful as the steward's voice announced that they would be landing in Chicago O'Hare in fifteen minutes. It was a relief to drain his coffee, fold his newspaper that he had pretended to read, fiddle with the tray table and fasten his seat belt, anything to stop the same questions that were whirling around Jo's head whirling around his.

Emerging from the baggage reclaim, Don didn't need to look around to see who was meeting them. She hadn't changed a bit. The same dark hair, the same muddy brown overcoat, the same stance with one hip thrust out, her arms crossed and that irritated look that said: '_You're just here to make my life difficult._'

"Detective Flack!"

Don put on his best smile. "Detective Brennan. Allow me to introduce Jo Danville." Detective Brennan gave her a curt nod before leading them outside where a car was waiting. They pulled away from the kerb and drove for a few minutes in silence before she twisted around in the passenger seat, getting straight to the point.

"All right spit it out. What has Mac got himself into this time 'cos I swear if I find another body hanging in the Tribune building I'll kill him myself."

At Jo's look of confusion, Don muttered "An old case. I'll explain later." He took a deep breath before continuing. "We have two cases which may be related. The first concerns Marcus James Levy .."

"Yeah I got your email with his name and I did a little digging." At Don's look of surprise she smiled ruefully. "Hey I have to try and keep one step ahead of you guys. He was reported missing three days ago along with his girlfriend Susan Beech." Brennan flipped open a file and handed them a picture. Don and Jo easily recognized the young couple in the snap-shot taken in a river-side bar where drinks were served with umbrellas and fruit. "They were reported missing by Geoffrey Stanmore; he's the manager at Appleyards."

"Appleyards?" queried Jo.

"It's a programme for assisting troubled youngster's back into the community. They provide sheltered housing with an on-call warden, help finding work, and generally supporting them in everyday living."

"Why were they part of this programme?"

"I don't know. Let's go ask Mr Stanmore that. He's expecting us in fifteen minutes. What about your other case?" Detective Brennan didn't fail to miss the look that passed between her two visitors.

Don took the lead. "The body of the girl, Susan Beech...?" Brennan nodded. "... was found in a parking garage near Grand Central Station. Her body had been positioned in such a way as to imitate a murder that was committed here in Chicago 30 years ago."

Brennan grimaced. "Don't tell me, his sister's murder?" Again Don and Jo were surprised not only that she knew but that her face had suddenly softened and taken on a pained expression. "I did a background check on Mac when he turned up here four years ago. His name came up in relation to what is essentially a cold case. I looked into it out of curiosity." Both Don and Jo felt their stomachs turn over dreading what she was going to say next. "It must have been awful for him to come home to that." She sighed and offered them a sympathetic smile then her smile faded into a frown as she looked at their expectant expressions. "Mac was coming home on his first leave from the Marine Corps and Maria went out to meet him but he missed his train. He arrived two hours after she had been killed. Can you imagine? If he hadn't missed his train..." She shook her head as she turned away to give their driver directions. Jo looked at Don and he could see in her face part relief at finding out that Mac wasn't present when his sister was killed and part pain at realizing that, knowing Mac, he probably felt responsible for what had happened. "Okay we're here."

The Appleyards community was obviously recent. The buildings were pristine and the gardens neatly landscaped with fragile-looking plants attached to tiny stakes. Their driver let them out in front of a small administrative building where a young man was on his knees trying to encourage a star jasmine to climb up a trellis by the front door. He gave them a bright smile clearly delighted with his work. Detective Brennan led them inside to a small office. A large man with a mop of sandy hair and a bright green tee-shirt immediately rose and came to greet them. After the introductions he gestured for them to follow him.

"This is a terrible business. I can't believe it. Marcus was such a quiet boy and he seemed to be settling in so well." Geoffrey Stanmore wrung his hands as he showed them through a set of double doors that led past a restaurant, an activities room and a small library to the individual living apartments behind the main building. "His apartment is on the second floor." As they were led upstairs Jo asked for the reason that Marcus joined the community. "Marcus had a traumatic childhood. His sister was killed in an accident when he was just twelve years old. His mother blamed him for not watching her more carefully. She started drinking. His father abandoned them and Marcus ended up in care. This led to anxiety attacks and deep depression. He didn't do well at school and he ended up in hospital from a number of suicide attempts. He was referred to us by his attending psychiatrist. This is his apartment." Opening a door he stood back to let them enter. Jo was surprised to see a small neat studio with a kitchenette to one side, a table and two chairs in the bay window and a small couch opposite a TV. A door on the left led to a bedroom with a bathroom attached. Jo joined Don as they looked at the walls. "As you can see Marcus was quite the artist."

Jo looked at the multitude of pictures that covered every subject from flowers and river scenes to buildings and animals. There was a delicate pencil-drawn portrait of Susan. Jo looked at it more closely and she could see the love and care that had gone into each of the soft curves and smooth lines. It was more than just a picture of a friend; it was a portrait of a lover.

Don turned to Stanmore. "Was Marcus still in therapy?"

"Oh yes. He still sees … saw Dr Stein every week."

Jo started at the name. "Stein? Dr Axel Stein?"

Stanmore looked surprised. "Yes you know him?""

"I met him a few times. Extracts from his books were used as part of a profiling course when I was with the FBI and he gave a series of lectures on the motivations for murder." Detective Brennan and Geoffrey Stanmore looked impressed that the attractive detective with a sweet southern accent should have been in the FBI.

"What can you tell us about Susan Beech?" asked Don.

"Oh she has … had … learning difficulties." The pain was etched in Geoffrey Stanmore's face as he corrected his slips. He swallowed heavily before continuing. "She was abandoned as a baby and bounced from foster home to foster home. She'd been with us since we opened and for the past six months she's had a part-time job at the community library. It had been going very well and she and Marcus – well they seemed made for one another, both quiet gentle souls. I had high hopes for the both of them." He wrung his hands again and tears came to his eyes. He cleared his throat. "Erm … she has a room at the end of the block. Would you like to see?" Don nodded to Jo to indicate that he would take the other room and she should stay.

As Jo slipped on a pair of gloves and looked through the drawers of the dresser that held the TV she could sense Detective Brennan watching her. "He's in trouble again isn't he?" she asked. "Mac, I mean?"

Jo turned around. She knew that she was under strict orders not to say anything but somehow the woman opposite her seemed genuinely concerned and inspired a confidence in her that not many people did. "When he saw her … Susan I mean ... he left the crime scene without a word. Just walked out. In the two years that I have known him I have never seen him back down from anything. He just left us without a word. He spoke to Chief Sinclair, who ordered him to keep a low profile" Jo reached into her pocket. "He left us a file about his sister's murder and this ..." She held up the post-it note.

Jo could see the shock she had felt mirrored in the other woman's eyes. Brennan licked her lips nervously. "Forgive him? For what?" Jo didn't answer. "You don't think … oh lord … you do. You think he killed Curtis Stone?. That Marcus killing Susan like that has some link..." Jo could see her mind working overtime but like Jo adding two and two didn't make four. Brennan took a deep breath and scooped her hair away from her face. "Curtis Stone killed Maria Taylor, Marcus Levy killed Susan Beech, 30 years apart in two different cities, the second murder made to look like the first … and in the middle of it all Mac Taylor. We need to talk to him."

"If we can find him. All we know is that he purchased a last-minute ticket to Chicago."

Detective Brennan smirked. "You ran his credit cards?" Jo gave her a wry smile. "What I wouldn't give to be a fly on the wall when you explain that one?"

"Yeah well first I have to track him down."

"Oh don't worry about that. I have a feeling I know where he is or at least I know someone who does." Jo looked surprised. "The last time he was here I asked him if he came back to Chicago often. He told me that there was only one person left in his family and that he always visited her whenever he managed to get back."

.

"_CSI:NY – CSI:NY – CSI:NY"_

.

"Can I help you?" Don Flack winced. The nasal twang of the woman in front of him was as harsh as the peroxide she had evidently put in her hair.

"I'm Detective Brennan Chicago PD. This is Detective Flack from New York. We'd like to speak with Dr Stein please."

"Do you have an appointment?" The two detectives shared an incredulous look. Obviously they didn't have an appointment. If she only bothered to turn her head to look at the appointments on the computer monitor to her right, she would see as they could that Dr Stein's next and last appointment was someone called Mulder who was due in ten minutes. Don couldn't resist looking hopefully at the door in anticipation of seeing a David Duchovny lookalike with an 'I believe' tee-shirt and a penchant for popping sunflower seeds.

"Just tell him we're here." Brennan ordered.

"He doesn't see anyone without an appointment." Miss Nasal Twang drawled as she contemplated her diamanté studded multi-coloured nails.

Brennan had had enough. She slammed her badge on the desk causing the woman to spring back in shock. "Tell him that two police officers on official business are here to see him. Now."

Having finally got through to her they were shown into a large airy office with a plush broadloom and tasteful teak wood fixtures. The walls had numerous diplomas, awards and photographs with important looking people that prominently featured the man they were here to speak to. Don couldn't help a small grimace as he glanced at a picture of Stein and some other self-important man with rifles in their hands and their feet on a large stag. Dr Axel Stein was a smartly-dressed man in his early fifties with short grey hair, a narrow angular face and serious grey eyes. He stood up politely as they entered.

"Thank you Gloria, that will be all. Tell Mr Mulder he may have to wait for a few minutes." Gloria closed the door with an irritated look and a flick of her bleached hair. "Please forgive my assistant," he muttered as though it was something he said on a regular basis. "Please take a seat. How can I help you?"

"We're here about Marcus James Levy." Don watched in silence as Detective Brennan began the questioning. Dr Stein's face didn't register anything other than mild surprise.

"Yes?"

"Marcus was found drowned in Central Park yesterday morning."

Stein frowned and shook his head, lacing his fingers together as he sat back heavily in his chair. "Oh this is dreadful. Quite dreadful. I don't understand it. He was doing so well." Stein promptly launched into a potted history of his patient's illness and treatment, a mixture of hypnotherapy for relaxation, mild sedatives to control mood swings and anxiety combined with occupational therapy. "Yes dreadful. Obviously Marcus was a very disturbed young man but I really thought we had his suicidal tendencies under control. I cannot imagine what triggered this."

"Well perhaps the fact that his murdered his girlfriend Susan Beech had something to do with it?"

"Susan? Oh dear! Dear! Dear! He did seem so very attached to her. I really had rather high hopes for both of them." Brennan glanced at Don as Dr Stein repeated the exact same phrase that they had heard from Geoffrey Stanmore not an hour before. He answered their other questions shortly and succinctly but gave them no real useful information. Thanking him they left passing by Gloria's desk. Don was disappointed to see that Mr Mulder was a short balding man with little round glasses and no tee-shirt. He scuttled past them the minute they left Stein's office only pausing to put a shiny red apple on Gloria's desk. As the door slammed behind him Gloria picked up the apple by the stalk with a look of disgust and dropped it into the waste basket under her desk. Don was about to follow Brennan outside but at the last minute turned back.

"Gloria. Do yourself a favour. Get a new line of work!" He grinned to himself at the look of outrage on her face as he closed the outer door with a bang.

"Well what now?" asked Brennan.

"Was it just me or was that kinda weird?"

Brennan shrugged. "If you ask me all shrinks are weird. They talk a lot, use a lot of big words and tell you precisely nothing."

"Well that leaves us with a whole lot of nothing. I sure as hell hope Jo finds Mac. Perhaps he can explain how all this fits together." Don sighed as he looked at her. "What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking I missed lunch to pick you up from the airport and I can't think on an empty stomach. Let's have an early dinner." Don flashed her a wide grin. He was beginning to warm to Detective Brennan.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N. And now to find out where Mac has gone - sorry this chapter turned out a little longer than I intended.**

**Chapter 4**

Jo stood outside the small brick terraced house with it's neatly painted stoop and looked up at it. She tried very hard to imagine Mac as a little boy sitting on that stoop but somehow she just couldn't get past Mac and his suits to imagine him as a little boy with dirty shorts and scuffed knees. "They're not there." Jo turned to see an elderly lady with a shopping bag leaning heavily on a cane. "The Mortimers. They're on vacation."

Jo smiled. "I haven't come to see the Mortimers. Actually, I 've come to see their neighbour Mrs Archer. Do you know her?"

"Why that would be me dear! Have we met before?" the old lady smiled up at Jo.

"No we haven't met before. I'm a friend of Mac Taylor's. I was hoping perhaps he might be here."

The old lady's face lit up like a four-year old on Christmas morning. "Oh you must be Jo." At Jo's look of astonishment she continued. "Mac described you perfectly. No wonder I thought we had met before. Come on in dear and we'll have a nice cup of tea." Jo was dumb-struck as she turned and followed the lady into the house next door to Mac's childhood home. Mrs Archer showed Jo into the cosy front room while she pottered about in the kitchen making tea. The furniture and drapes were all pink roses and lace but it was the credenza that held Jo's interest. It was covered with framed photographs, all of Mac and his sister. Jo couldn't help but smile as she picked up one of Mac. He looked to be about six, wearing miniature fatigues and grinning cheekily at the camera.

"Even then he wanted to be a Marine. So like his father. Such a sweet boy ..." the old lady placed the tray on the table and seated herself opposite Jo. "... though he did have a bit of a wild streak. But the Corps soon knocked that out of him." Jo couldn't help but raise an eyebrow as the old lady giggled to herself. "Well almost!"

Jo sat down in an overstuffed armchair and gratefully accepted the tea. She took a sip before asking. "Mrs Archer, has Mac been to see you?"

"Please call me Irene." Her face fell a little as she clearly knew the reason for Jo's visit. "Yes he was here. Who would be so cruel as to drag this all up again after so many years?"

"That's what I'm trying to find out." Jo answered gently. "I'm sorry I don't want to seem rude but how are you related to Mac?"

The old lady smiled. "I'm his godmother. His mother Millie was my cousin. We lived next door to one another for over forty years. My husband and I were godparents to Mac and Maria. I couldn't have children of my own you see." Jo nodded in sympathy. "I watched them grow up. Such sweet, gentle children … though Mac changed when he was about fourteen. I think he got into some kind of trouble, something that ..." Irene searched for the right word. "... tormented him. He would never talk about it. Suddenly he became more intense, more reserved and he seemed to get into trouble more often. He almost drove his parents mad. They couldn't understand how he could get into so many fights." Irene chuckled to herself. "It was almost as though he had to prove himself. Then the day he turned 18 he joined the Marines. We were so proud of him when he graduated, especially Maria." Irene sipped her tea. The cup rattled in the saucer as tears came to her eyes. "Then that boy took her life ..."

"Curtis Stone?"

"Yes, oh the police couldn't prove it and his family provided him with an alibi but we knew it was him. He was obsessed with her - always following her and sending her love letters … he never signed them but Mac got a sample of his writing and said they were definitely from him. And he would leave her roses too. I know Mac warned him off a couple of times and it seemed to work for a while but then when Mac joined the Corps it started again." Irene reached into her pocket, pulled out a lace-edged handkerchief and wiped a tear from her cheek. "She was such a good sweet girl. It broke our hearts to lose her like that." She looked up at Jo who could feel tears pricking at her own eyes. "He never forgave himself." Irene stood up and walked over to the credenza. She picked up a photograph of Mac and Maria taken at what looked like Maria's first communion, the silver crucifix plainly visible against her white dress.

Jo took a deep breath. "Mrs Archer … Irene … did Mac … did Mac have anything to do with Curtis' death?" Jo could feel her heart pounding against her ribcage as, for a few seconds, Irene remained where she was, her back turned, her eyes focussed on the photograph in her hands. Slowly she replaced it on the credenza and regained her seat opposite Jo.

"All these years it was a question I never dared to ask until yesterday." Irene looked at Jo and Jo could see the pain and doubt in her eyes. "He was sitting right there where you are now and for the first time in thirty years I asked him that same question."

"What did he say?" Jo hardly dare ask, her voice barely a whisper.

"He asked me to forgive him."

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"_CSI:NY – CSI:NY – CSI:NY"_

.

Jo eased her foot off the gas as she looked at the signpost. She glanced at the instructions Irene had given her and made a right. As she cruised along the deserted road, it began to narrow and the trees gradually closed in on either side of her. The sun was beginning to set and the road grew darker as she drove further into the park. Jo shuffled uncomfortably in her seat. She had been driving solid for almost four hours but she was determined to make it before nightfall. She slowed as she passed the sign to the park rangers but she didn't stop. Then she spotted it – the dead pine that Irene had told her to look for. Two miles beyond Jo guided the car to the left and down a narrow track. As she bumped along she wished she had known in advance that she would be going off-road. She would have hired a 4x4. Irene wasn't joking when she had told her that the cabin was out in the wilderness. Just when she was wondering how much further it was, the track opened up into a small clearing where a Jeep was parked. Jo pulled up along side and shut off the engine.

Getting out of the car she stretched her aching bones and looked around. A small path wound it's way through the trees to her right, the only sign of civilisation was a small wooden sign that said "Private Property." Jo didn't bother to lock the car or take her bag. She stuffed the keys in her pocket and started down the path. The setting sun flashed between the trees casting long shadows. After a few minutes she emerged into a clearing and gasped. She was standing only a stone's throw from the edge of the deepest blue lake she had ever seen. It was much larger than she had thought when she had looked at the map and it was surrounded by deep lush forest. The wooden cabin was nestled among the trees, it's door and windows wide open; two large patchwork throws were hanging over the railing of the small veranda that fronted it. The evening sun cast a warm glow over the sandy area in front of the cabin. It was peaceful, the only sounds being the gentle lapping of water and the rustle of the birds in the trees. Jo breathed in deeply and for a moment she understood what had brought Mac here. It was beautiful. She made her way over to the cabin, quickly climbing the three wooden steps onto the veranda, admiring the patchwork as she passed. She put her head through the doorway and tapped on the door.

"Mac?"

She looked around. The room opened out on both sides. A small simple kitchen stood to her left with an old-fashioned wood-burning stove. To her right, a large leather couch that had seen better days was set opposite a large fireplace that was laid with fresh wood and kindling in readiness for the cool of the evening. There didn't appear to be any other rooms and clearly Mac wasn't there. Jo turned around and stood on the veranda looking out over the lake with her hand raised to shade her eyes. Off to one side, a short distance away stood a smaller structure with a jetty sticking out into the water. A boathouse, thought Jo to herself. As she made her way across she thought she could hear splashing. Again she raised her hand to shield her eyes from the sun but she couldn't see anything. She climbed the rickety wooden stair that creaked worryingly under her weight. The wooden hand-rail wobbled alarmingly when she touched it. Jo made her way around the back of the boathouse and down the far side towards the jetty but as she rounded the corner she froze.

Her breath caught in her throat and her stomach tightened into a knot as a figure, oblivious to her presence, pulled himself up the ladder from the water in a shower of droplets. She knew that she should go back or turn away but she found herself rooted to the spot unable to take her eyes off him as he grabbed a towel from one of the posts to wipe the water from his eyes. He took two steps towards the end of the jetty and stood immobile facing out to the lake with the evening sun bathing his body in it's golden rays. Jo's eyes widened and her pulse seemed to race as she watched the water run from his hair to form a rivulet that ran down the centre of his back until it reached a ragged looking scar that diverted it down across one hip to the top of his thigh and down the back of his leg. In some tiny, remote part of her brain that wasn't completely overwhelmed by the vision of masculine physique before her, the fact that she was almost certainly committing a misdemeanour by covertly watching him caused her to take a step back. The wooden board creaked and Mac spun round quickly pulling the towel around his middle.

"Jo!" They stared at one another for a few seconds before Mac recovered the power of speech and adjusted the towel. His voice was serious though a hint of amusement played around his lips at the look of utter shock and embarrassment on her face. "I should have known you would find me … though if I'd thought you'd get here this quickly, I'd have made sure I'd brought swim shorts."

Jo felt a wave of mortification flood through her. She muttered an apology and turned back the way she had come ignoring Mac's calls for her to wait. She ran along the back of the boathouse towards the stairs. Not bothering with the handrail she hastily plunged down the stairs but the rotten wood of the bottom tread gave way and she found herself flying through the air and landing heavily in a heap at the bottom of the stairs.

"My God Jo! Are you hurt?" Jo closed her eyes as a sharp pain ripped through her ankle causing her to moan. "Jo I am so sorry. I should have warned you. Those stairs are badly in need of repair." Jo tried to struggle to her feet but as soon as she put weight on her foot she almost screamed in pain. As she stumbled she found a pair of arms tightening around her. She suddenly became very aware of how close he was, the coolness of his skin still damp from his swim in the lake.

"I'm fine." Jo tried to push him away but her ankle wouldn't take her weight and she moaned in agony.

"Jo look at me." He spoke softly. Jo raised her eyes to his and she thought her heart would stop at the concern and tenderness she saw in them. "Let me help you. Please." Reluctantly she nodded and Mac guided her back to the step and helped her sit on one of the unbroken treads. "Just wait here. I'll only be a few minutes." He disappeared back up the stairs to the boathouse and Jo buried her burning face in her hands. _What would he think of her?_ Barely three minutes later he returned having donned track pants and tee-shirt. His feet were still bare but that didn't seem to bother him. He smiled down at her and she felt her cheeks grow red again. He bent down beside her and examined her ankle. After a moment he looked up. "Put your arms around my neck." Jo had no choice other than to comply and she felt herself being scooped up. "I think it's just a sprain. There's a first aid kit in the cabin."

Mac carried her into the cabin, placed her gently on the couch and carefully removed her shoes. Frowning he examined her ankle that was already beginning to swell, and then disappeared into the kitchen to get the first aid kit. She watched curiously as he grabbed a large metal jug. He handed her a white painted box with a red cross on it before disappearing outside again. Jo opened up the kit and found that, despite the antique looking box, it was well stocked with modern day necessities. As she poked through the box a loud screeching came from outside like someone swinging on a metal gate that needed oiling. Suddenly Jo realized what Mac was doing. She looked over the back of the couch at the kitchen. _No faucets!_ She looked around the large airy room and spotted an old-fashioned jug and basin on a stand. _No bathroom!_ Her eyes alighted on the large ceramic oil lamp which she then realized was not just for show. She stared in astonishment at Mac as he came in with the jug clearly having filled it from the hand-pump outside.

He grinned sheepishly at her. "I guess I need to do a little maintenance on that pump too." He poured the water into a metal bowl adding a little antiseptic before kneeling down beside her. "You've got a nasty graze. This might sting a little." Mac carefully cleaned the graze, smeared it with antiseptic cream and covered it with gauze. He pulled a bandage from the kit which he soaked in the ice-cold water before wrapping it around her ankle. "Better?" he asked.

Jo nodded not trusting herself to speak. The feel of his hands on her skin, the tenderness with which he treated her, the concern in his voice and the look of remorse in his eyes made her stomach flip. She shivered at the feel of his fingers brushing her leg as he finished tying the bandage. Mac took this as a sign of her being cold. He got up and closed the windows on either side of the door. He retrieved a patchwork quilt from the veranda and, closing the door, laid it carefully over her legs. He then lit the fire and wandered over to the kitchen to light the stove.

"Tea? Coffee? Or something stronger?"

Jo peered at him over the back of the couch. "Something stronger please."

She saw him pull two glasses and a bottle of whiskey from the cupboard. He poured the drinks and carried them over to the couch. Jo muttered a thank you and took a sip. She closed her eyes as she felt the fiery liquid burn a path down the back of her throat. She took another sip and began to feel it warm her stomach. Mac stood at the fireside looking at the flames that were beginning to lick the edges of the logs. They were both avoiding the one topic of conversation that had brought them there and they knew it. Mac took a deep breath, looked at the whiskey and pushed it onto the mantle-piece without touching it. He turned to look at Jo. She could see the pain in his face.

"Tell me what happened Mac!" At first she thought he wasn't going to answer as he turned back to stare at the flames that were greedily licking the sides of the logs as though eager to make their escape up the chimney. When he finally spoke his voice was quiet and so filled with pain that she felt like crying.

"I'd just completed my first tour of duty. I was with a few buddies at a bar. We were just having a drink, celebrating the end of our first tour together. Time just ran away and I realized that I was going to miss my train. I ran. I ran so fast but I couldn't make it. I caught the next one but … but I was too late." Jo could see his knuckles turn white as he held onto the mantle-piece as though it were a life-raft. "The police were waiting for me instead of … instead of Maria. They told me she had been strangled. I'll never forget standing there with my parents in the morgue looking at her lying on that slab, my mother gripping my arm. My father never uttered a word. Oh they never blamed me but ..."

"...but you blamed yourself."

"If only I had been there Jo … I might have been able to save her … to stop him ..." Mac's voice cracked and she could see the tension in his shoulders.

"Did he kill her Mac? Curtis Stone?"

"Without a doubt." Jo could hear the anger in his voice and the conviction.

"There was no evidence to tie him to the murder and according the police report Curtis had an alibi."

"I know. His family vouched for him but they were lying Jo." Mac reached into his pocket and pulled something out. He looked at it for a moment and then allowed it to slip through his fingers. He raised his hand and Jo could see the crucifix dangling from his fingers shimmering in the glow from the firelight. She raised her head and glanced at the windows surprised to see that it was almost dark outside, the sun having finally reduced to a red glow on the horizon. As if sensing what she was thinking Mac pulled a taper from a holder on the fireside and bent to light it from the fire. He carried it over to the lamp, adjusted the wick and lit it lowering the glass shade back into place. He carried the lamp over to Jo and placed it on a rough wooden table next to her.

Gently he sat on the couch beside her. He held up the crucifix for her to see. Placing her glass next to the lamp she took it from his fingers. It was exquisite, intricately carved with tiny details. She was quite surprised to feel how heavy it was. "It was my great-grandmother's. She gave it to her daughter for her first communion who in turn gave it to my mother for hers and then it came to Maria. Four generations Jo but he had it." Jo leaned forward to lay her hand on his arm. Her heart clenched as she saw tears in his eyes as he looked into hers. "He was just standing there sprinkling rose petals on her grave with it around his neck. He said that she gave it to him … but Jo … four generations. Maria would never have given that to him. It was to have been her daughter's one day." Mac closed his eyes as he fought to regain control of his emotions. Jo waited for him to continue.

"I tried to take it from him but he took me by surprise and he ran." Mac gave a snort of disgust as he recalled Curtis getting away from him. "I caught up with him by the river and I pulled it from around his neck. I tried to get him to confess that he had killed her. I was going to take him to the police but all he kept saying was that they were supposed to be together forever." Mac turned away from her and buried his head in his hands. "We struggled and … and I pushed him. He fell ... into the river. I should have gone in after him. I should have ... but I didn't. I just stood there and watched the river carry him away. Two days later the police came to tell us that he had been found drowned. They thought he'd killed himself."

Mac looked at her again. He looked utterly exhausted. "I killed him Jo. I didn't mean to but I killed the man who murdered my sister." Jo raised her hand to his cheek and he brought his hand up to cover hers. He leaned into her hand closing his eyes. At that moment Jo was certain of one thing. His parents may not have blamed him for what happened to Maria and she couldn't find it in her heart to blame him for what happened to Curtis but one thing was sure; he blamed himself and despite his confession to her he wasn't anywhere near finding the absolution that he craved.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N. Thanks for the reviews guys - hopefully you will all have recognised Detective Brennan from S4E10 The Thing About Heroes. Couldn't find a first name for her anywhere so I made one up. Sorry if I got it wrong. (Gosh I thought the last chapter was a little long! Now I've just realized that this one is even longer. Oh dear. Hope it's not too boring.)  
**

**Chapter 5**

"So where do we go from here?" Don smiled as he settled into the surprisingly comfortable, old leather chair next to Brennan's desk. He took another bite out of the Danish she had bought him and waited, chewing thoughtfully as his temporary new partner checked her messages. He allowed himself a small smile thinking how much he had enjoyed the previous day's dinner. He hadn't enjoyed himself like that since … Jess. His stomach flipped at the thought of her. He still missed her and for some reason he felt guilty for having enjoyed himself.

"Well I guess we need to do the proverbial two-pronged approach – look further into both cases and hope something stands out." Brennan twisted around in her chair and pulled the Missing Person's file towards her. Don sighed as he popped the last piece of Danish into his mouth and tossed the wrapper into the trash. Brennan flashed him a smile. Somehow he seemed different from the last time that they had met, more intense with a hint of sadness in the eyes but that same Irish charm was still there and she couldn't remember the last time she had enjoyed a dinner so much.

"Yo BB!" A heavy-set man with a cheerful face and a bright yellow and orange shirt waltzed up to dump a box on her desk. "Archives just sent this up for you. You doing cold cases again?" He turned to Don and stuck out a hand. "Larry Milton. You must be Don Flack. Heard we had a visitor from the Big Apple. How come every time one of these guys turn up you're always digging up thirty year old cases?" Larry's laughter at his own joke echoed around the room. "Digging up ...get it?"

"Funny Larry." Brennan dead-panned.

"Well can't be … hanging around!" Larry grinned at them both.

"Get outta' here." Brennan gave him a shove and shook her head as Larry wandered off still chuckling to himself. "Ignore him!" She grabbed the box with its yellowed label neatly printed out with the words "Maria Taylor" and "Unsolved". As she pulled off the lid she glanced at Don who was looking mildly amused. "What?"

"BB?"

Brennan pursed her lips and shuffled uncomfortably. "First name's Beatrice but you call me that and I'll shoot you." Don grinned and stood up as BB pulled the evidence bags out of the box. She glanced at a sheet of paper that had been added on top. "What the hell?" Don twisted his head to look at what she was reading. "This is the sign-out sheet. It records everyone who has requested access to the evidence." Don glanced at the short list of names his eyes widening as he recognized the last three names on the list. Two of them belonged to the woman he was standing next to, one dated today and the other dated four years ago. However sandwiched between the two was a name that Don recognized. "I wonder why the FBI are interested in this case."

"I don't know but I think we should go ask him." There was something in Don's voice that caused Brennan to look up at him.

"You know him?"

Don nodded as he looked down once more at the name just to be sure that he had read it right. "Yeah I know him. That's Jo Danville's ex-husband."

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"_CSI:NY – CSI:NY – CSI:NY"_

.

Jo stretched and opened her eyes. Bright sunlight filtered into the room even though the blinds were still drawn. Jo sat up and threw off the cover. The fire had long since died out; only a few glowing embers remained. Jo's face broke out into a huge smile as she reached out and grabbed the roughly hewn walking stick that had been left propped up against the table. At least, Jo thought to herself, that would save the embarrassment of the previous night. After Mac's confession she hadn't had the heart to continue. He had seemed drained and she had been exhausted from the drive. Jo had declared she needed to use the bathroom and had looked around mystified as to where the facilities were. Mac had explained that the cabin was somewhat rudimentary and that there was only a 'vault' out back. The 'vault' turned out to be a dry toilet that Jo discovered was no more than a hole in the ground covered with an ancient-looking wooden seat. And she certainly wasn't impressed by having to throw a handful of sawdust down the hole that served in place of a flush. What had been even more mortifying was having to have Mac carry her there and back. At least this morning she could do it on her own. Her ankle was still swollen and painful but at least she could walk a few steps with the help of the stick that Mac had clearly just cut for her.

After she had used the facilities and freshened up at the wash-stand where Mac had thoughtfully left a large jug of hot water, Jo grabbed a coffee from the pot on the stove and went outside wondering if Mac was having another swim. Her cheeks still reddened at the recollection but she couldn't help a naughty smile. Having only ever seen him dressed in his formal suits she was certainly seeing another side of him. Jo giggled to herself and made her way onto the veranda. As she looked around, she heard a noise like a loud crack come from behind the cabin. Slowly she hobbled in the direction of the noise which reoccurred at irregular intervals. She noticed another small track that disappeared into the trees behind the 'vault'. After only a few steps she spied the source of the noise and her cheeks reddened again. Perhaps there was something to this voyeurism after all! Jo moved as quietly as she could and paused to watch Mac dressed in torn jeans, lumberjack boots and wife-beater, swing the axe and slice the log neatly into two. He picked up both pieces and threw them onto a small wheelbarrow, before selecting another log and placing it on the chopping block made out of the base of a tree that judging by the roughened, pitted surface, had clearly been cut down many years before. Jo watched, fascinated by the play of muscles in his arms and shoulders as he lifted the axe and swung once more. This time, however, he left the axe in the block and turned to face her, his face breaking into a shy smile.

"Sleep well?" Jo nodded. "How's the ankle?"

"Still swollen but a lot better. I'm not sure I'll be able to drive for a while but I really ought to call Don and let him know I'm okay and check in with Ellie and Tyler."

Mac dipped his head. "I'll drive you over to the park ranger's station after breakfast. They have a mast near there. You should be able to get cell reception." Jo nodded and began to turn back towards the cabin. "I'm sorry Jo ..." She looked back at him. "You shouldn't have had to drive all the way out here. I should have ignored Sinclair and called you."

Jo frowned. "Did Sinclair order you not to talk to us?"

Mac looked thoughtful for a moment. "What did he tell you?"

"Only that you were taking a leave of absence effective immediately, that Don and I were to discretely investigate both cases and report back to him directly before the end of the week. And that you had tendered your resignation that would be announced at some appropriate point in the near future." Jo's frown deepened at the clear look of surprise on his face. "You didn't resign did you?"

Mac laughed. "I didn't have time to. I barely had time to explain what I felt were the salient points of the case and the possible fall-out before he had me escorted from the building." It was Jo's turn to look surprised. "He didn't mention that did he? That he took my badge and my gun and my phone and had me practically frog-marched out of the back door." Mac felt the anger rise up in him at the humiliation of it. He rubbed a hand over his face. "He told me not to talk to anyone. That he would try to keep a lid on the fact that the head of his crime lab was a murderer."

Jo's eyes almost popped out of her head. "He said that?"

Mac shrugged. "Well not in so many words but that was what he meant."

"Mac it was an accident. You said so yourself. And it was thirty years ago. This is crazy."

"This is opportunity. Sinclair would like nothing better than to see me embroiled in some sordid affair that would force me to resign so he can bring in someone from his own camp. But he has to be careful in case any of it rubs off on him. He wants rid of me Jo and he's going to use this case to do it." Mac gave a short laugh. "You know he actually asked me if I had an alibi for the girl's murder?"

Jo's eyes sparkled with amusement as she tried to lighten the mood. "Do you?" she asked hoping to raise a smile. But Mac didn't laugh. He just looked bitterly unhappy.

"No I don't," he said sadly. Jo realized that he hadn't any information on the case and was ignorant of the latest developments.

Jo hobbled towards him. "Mac we know who killed her. Her name was Susan Beech and we believe that she was murdered by her boyfriend Marcus James Levy. It seems he was quite a troubled young man. Long history of mental illness and suicidal tendencies. Quite what the relation is to your sister and why he would imitate her murder we don't know. So far the only thing they have in common is that they're all from Chicago but Don is investigating with Detective Brennan as we speak."

"Brennan?" Mac grimaced as he recognized the name. "Bet she wasn't happy knowing I was back. I hope she isn't giving Don a hard time."

Jo looked at him and tried not to smile."Don't worry about Don. I think she has a soft spot for him though when your name was mentioned I believe she said that if she found another body hanging in the Tribune building she'd kill you herself. Care to explain?"

Mac grimaced again. He picked up his shirt and slipped it on without buttoning it. He sighed as he held out an arm for her to lean on. "Come on. I'll cook you breakfast and tell you about it. They say confession is good for the soul."

.

"_CSI:NY – CSI:NY – CSI:NY"_

.

He leaned against the rough bark of the tree and adjusted the focus on the high-powered binoculars. He watched them emerge from the trees and make their way slowly back to the cabin. "Still the officer and the gentleman, I see Taylor." he muttered to himself as Mac helped Jo up the stairs. Things had moved a lot quicker than he originally anticipated but it was turning out much better than he had planned. He was a little disappointed that the press hadn't published anything about the murders other than a small paragraph on the inside page with no mention of Taylor or his sister but he couldn't have predicted that a well-known socialite's love-child and yet another political scandal would steal the headlines. He had hoped to get Taylor a little bad press and hound him out of New York but he had achieved his objective and got him to come back here, right where he wanted him. The fact that Jo had arrived so quickly left him with mixed feelings but she'd soon come to her senses when she discovered what kind of man she was with. They didn't belong together but for the time being he had to ensure that they remained here until he was ready. He put the binoculars back into their case and, picking up the rifle that was leaning against the tree, he quietly made his way through the dense foliage.

.

"_CSI:NY – CSI:NY – CSI:NY"_

.

"You okay Adam?" Lindsay looked at the young lab tech chewing on his thumb as he sat hunched over the computer. "You've been sat there for over two hours."

Adam ran his hand through his hair and gestured towards the screen. "I'm not sure that this is Marcus James Levy." Lindsay frowned and came up beside him to peer at the screen with the photograph of the Ford Bronco and it's driver frozen as they arrived at the parking garage.

"I thought the comparison showed it was him."

"No it gave a 90% match based on three key elements of the DMV photograph but it is not definitive. All it says is that the driver is a similar height and build, and the nose to chin ratio is a match to within 10%."

"So what makes you think this isn't him?"

"I pulled some footage from the traffic cams between the motel and the parking garage in the hour before he arrived and I came up with this photo." Adam tapped a few keys and the image changed to view of the same Ford Bronco truck but taken from the rear as it was stopped in a queue at traffic lights.

"Whoa!" Lindsay looked even more unconvinced. "Adam we can't even see the driver in this shot."

"That's not true." Adam enlarged the driver's side window. "We can see his arm."

Lindsay peered at the monitor. The driver had placed his elbow on the edge of the window, his fingers against the side of his head. "Is that a wedding ring?" Adam nodded. "Our vic wasn't wearing a ring and, Marcus and Susan weren't married."

"Exactly."

"He could have taken it off. Thrown it in the water."

"I thought of that but then I found this ..." Lindsay waited patiently while Adam typed away at the keyboard. "This is from an ATM that is just down the block from the parking garage. It was taken at 3.52am. That's within the time frame of Susan being left at the parking garage. The quality is not great and the angle is bad."

"Who's that?" Lindsay asked as she looked at an overly close, unflattering picture of a man in his early thirties with a faintly cross-eyed look staring directly at the camera.

"No not him. Look in the background." Adam pointed to the screen. A man with a baseball cap pulled low and a dark chequered shirt was shown walking by, a ring clearly visible on his finger. " Same shirt, same baseball cap, same ring."

"So?"

"So if you compare elbow to wrist, and hip to ankle ratios..." Adam's fingers flew across the keyboard and a series of green lines appeared. "...and compare them to the measurements Sid took of Marcus." He hit a key with a flourish.

Lindsay's eyes widened as a box popped up on the screen. 'No match.'

"It's not conclusive but..."

"...but it casts reasonable doubt."

"Reasonable doubt of what ..." asked Danny who wandered in with Sheldon.

"That Marcus James Levy wasn't at the wheel of the Bronco when Susan Beech was dumped in the garage," Adam answered causing Danny to look between them as though he was following the ball at a tennis match.

"I have to agree with you there," added Sheldon much to everyone's surprise. "Sid and I took a closer look at the amounts of phenobarbital in their systems. The amount that Marcus had in his system was not enough to kill him but would certainly have incapacitated him. I sincerely doubt that he would have been capable of driving."

"So who was driving?" Lindsay looked puzzled. "I've been over every inch of that Bronco and have only found Marcus' and Susan's prints."

"He can't have been wearing gloves." Adam clicked back to the photograph of the driver with his hand up. "The ring is clearly visible." A slight cough from behind them caused them to turn. Lindsay smiled as Adam blushed. "Oh hey Cindy!"

"Hey Adam, I got the trace results back on that substance from the steering wheel – it's candle wax." Cindy looked at him under her lashes as she handed Adam a folder. "And … er the blood on the thorn on the rose stem. The one you found in the foot-well of the Bronco? There isn't enough to get an accurate DNA profile but it doesn't match either of your victims. Sorry!"

"Oh … er … no problem! Thanks … er … Cindy!" Adam watched her all the way out of the door and a goofy grin appeared on his face as she gave him a half-wave before disappearing around the corner. Adam returned his attention to the others in the room. However, his smile disappeared and his face fell as he realized they were all staring at him questioningly. "Er sorry!" he muttered.

"Oh for goodness sake Adam. Just ask her out," Lindsay hissed.

"What … er … no … er .. it's not like that. I … er ..." Adam blustered. He then almost shot out of his skin as all three of his colleagues yelled his name.

Sheldon grabbed the file that Cindy had handed to Adam. "Tonight Adam!" Adam nodded and Sheldon opened the file. "Candle wax?"

"You thinking what I'm thinking?" Danny folded his arms and rocked back on his heels.

Sheldon nodded. "Yeah, great way of hiding your fingerprints without wearing gloves."

Lindsay nodded. "It would explain why some of the prints on the steering wheel were smudged. So where does this leave us?"

Adam raised his hand as though he were in school which in turn raised a few eyebrows. He smiled at them sheepishly. "Well maybe the retro clothes will get us somewhere. I tracked down a website that specializes in retro clothing. Two similar outfits were bought online by an Alex Cartwright. I just sent the credit card details to Don and he's on his way to interview her now. It seems she lives in Chicago." The raised eyebrows rose a little higher as Adam grinned at them and punched the air. "Whad'up?"


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N. Thank you very much for the encouraging reviews. Here's one more chapter to conclude Part I of this story. Please don't be mad at me but I'm taking a short break and I will be back Monday for Part II. **_*Mahala skips off into sunset singing Happy Birthday to ... me!***  
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**Chapter 6**

"Alex Cartwright?"

"Yep!" Don's face mirrored the incredulity on Brennan's as they stared at the 6'4'' behemoth with a mass of ginger hair and a beard that could have rivalled the members of ZZ Top. "If you're here for the tour, you're a little early. It doesn't start for another forty minutes" The huge man grinned like a Cheshire cat.

Don and Brennan exchanged looks before Don cleared his throat. "Erm. No actually we're here about a seventies blouse and clutch purse that you purchased on-line." Don held out a photograph of the clothing in question as Brennan held up a badge.

Alex Cartwright let out a huge laugh. "You the fashion police?" he guffawed. "Seriously they were genuine business expenses." He looked at them both and then pulled a leaflet from the counter. "Cartwright's Chicago Tours! Best way to visit the Windy City. "

"Mr Cartwright. These clothes were found on the dead body of a young girl." Brennan glared at him.

"Of course they were. Page eight." Cartwright pointed at the paper in Don's hand. Don grimaced but flipped through the leaflet.

"Chicago ghost trail! The spookiest way to see the Windy City!" Don glanced at Brennan, his face taking on a look of disgust. "What the hell?"

Alex Cartwright ran a hand through his mop of ginger hair. "Yeah. She's stop twelve on the tour. One for the ladies. The romantic story of a young girl waiting for her hero brother who never came back from the war. But she was cruelly murdered and her ghost still roams the station waiting in vain for his return..." Don felt his stress level rise as he fought with every fibre of his being the sudden urge to want to punch this guy in the nose. "It's a true story."

"And the clothes?" Brennan asked glancing at Don sensing that he was about to do something he might regret.

"Yeah! Gotta make it look good. Couple of friends dress up as the girl and the brother. Got a portable smoke machine. Real effective especially at night in the parking lot. It's real popular. Like I said, the ladies like it. Hell one of 'em must have liked it so much they even stole the costume. Had to get a replacement. Cost me a damned fortune! We like to be as realistic as possible."

"Stole it?" asked Don.

"Yeah, would you believe it? We keep all the costumes in the van..." He pointed out of the window to filthy-looking nondescript white van. "Jim and Lacey take the van while I take the guests in the coach..." Don leaned to one side to peer out of the window at a run-down mini-van with hand-painted bodywork in lurid colours. Brennan's eyebrows rose clearly conveying what she thought of the 'coach.' "Someone must have grabbed the costume from the back... what can I say? There are some crazy people out there."

"When was this?" Brennan pursued.

Cartwright frowned as he struggled to remember. "Maybe two months ago. It was the crazy weekend when I had three loads of Japanese tourists. They really love the graveyards and of course Al Capone – the Valentines Day Massacre. It's awesome. Even got me a real Tommy gun in a violin case."

"Can you get us a list of participants for that weekend?" Brennan stuck one hand on her hip, clearing losing her patience.

Cartwright suddenly looked nervous as if, for the first time, he realized that there was something serious going on. "Yeah sure. Look I'm not in any trouble am I?"

"No Mr Cartwright. We're just trying to figure out how these clothes ended up on a girl murdered in parking garage in New York City." Brennan looked at him as he nervously smoothed down his beard.

"You mean they were really used on a real … I mean … whoever stole them was murdered … or was ..." he blustered. "Oh Lord! I'll get you the lists." He lumbered over to a computer and opened a spreadsheet. After a few minutes he printed out several sheets. "I don't have the names of the Japanese tourists. They're group bookings. I work with a travel agent. I can give you her name."

"That's okay Mr Cartwright. I doubt it was one of them." Brennan took the sheets from his hands and flicked through them, her face registering frustration at the number of names as nothing immediately jumped out at her.

"This hasn't got anything to do with my tour has it? You don't think that someone murdered that girl after taking my tour?"

Don shrugged and shook his head. "Maybe … we don't know. But Mr Cartwright …?" The big man looked at him, clearly troubled by the implications. "...do me a favour. Drop stop number twelve." Cartwright nodded.

"Look I'm sorry. I didn't think … this is just a bit of fun. A different way to tour the city, scare a few tourists, give them a few cheap thrills. I meant no harm. I swear. " Don and Brennan nodded sympathetically at him. "I only copied the idea from the book."

"What book?"

"Hundred Years of Chicago Murders" Cartwright returned to the computer desk and pulled a book from the shelf above it, flicked through pages before handing it to Don.

Don looked at Brennan whose eyes had opened wide. "Can we borrow this?"

.

"_CSI:NY – CSI:NY – CSI:NY"_

.

Jo drained the last of her coffee to wash down the eggs Mac had cooked her for breakfast and hobbled over to the window to watch as he worked the hand-pump to get water to wash the dishes. The pump still squeaked making her teeth ache. She made her way back to the wash-stand to fix her hair and clean her teeth. She thought back to their conversation over breakfast. As promised he had given her the run-down on his 333 stalker. No wonder it was rare for him to return to the place he grew up in. So many bad memories, so many scars. Jo paused for a moment as Mac entered with the jug. She frowned as she recalled the scar over his heart and the scar across his hip, clearly old injuries. Suddenly Irene Archer's words came back to her. "_A wild streak … as though he had to prove himself._"As though sensing she was thinking about him, Mac turned to look at her. The soft, shy smile made her heart melt and she found herself smiling back at him. "Mac, I'm sorry. " Mac frowned slightly. "About yesterday … about catching you … I mean I don't want you to think that I was … spying … I mean watching you … that I am ..."

Mac chuckled to himself as Jo's cheeks got redder and she stumbled over her words. He had never seen her look so uncomfortable and, at that moment, she looked simply adorable. "Jo. It's okay. I have to confess that your appearance was certainly … unexpected." Jo felt herself blush all the way to her hairline. "But that doesn't mean it was unwelcome. I'm glad you're here." Mac reached for a cloth and dried his hands. "Now let's take a look at that ankle."

Feeling relieved, Jo hobbled back to the couch. She placed her foot on the couch as Mac sat down beside her with a fresh bowl of water and the first aid kit. She let him unwrap her ankle and clean the graze. It didn't sting as much but she was shocked to see how swollen and purple it looked. One part was particularly tender and she winced.

"Jo I think there may be a splinter of wood in this. I think you should get this checked out professionally – it might be infected. Come on I'll drive you over to the park rangers and you can call Don and I'll get Steve to look at it. He's also a trained paramedic. He'll know if we need to go over to the medical centre in town."

"Steve?"

"He's a park ranger now but he was the medic on my unit when we were in the Marines. He looks after this place for me and I let him and his brothers stay here. They like the fishing." Mac wrapped a fresh dressing around her ankle and she shivered at his touch. "I'm sorry. Did I hurt you?" Jo merely shook her head. "Can you manage to get to the car?" Jo nodded again and reached for the stick.

"I'll be fine." She was glad of his arm as she made her way out of the cabin and down the small path but not because her ankle was hurting. She suppressed a wicked thought as she clung onto his arm and felt his biceps flex to support her weight.

Lost in her thoughts she was surprised when Mac suddenly stopped short a few yards away from the cars. She was even more taken aback when he suddenly pulled her close, his head flicking around scanning the trees around the them.

"The tyres," he hissed. Jo turned to look back at the cars and gasped. All four tyres on both vehicles were flat. They weren't going anywhere.

.

"_CSI:NY – CSI:NY – CSI:NY"_

.

Detective Brennan arched an eyebrow as a man seated on the plush sofa in the far corner of the hotel lobby rose and waved in their direction. Jo Danville's ex was quite the looker, she thought. She followed Don as he threaded his way across the lobby. He made the introductions and they all sat down looking at one another slightly warily, no one quite sure what the other was going to say.

"What brings you to Chicago?" Both men stared at one another in surprise as they asked the same question. Brennan could sense a stand-off between the two men so she decided some neutral intervention was called for.

"I think our cases may be inter-linked." Both men looked at her. "Thirty years ago Detective Mac Taylor's sister was murdered here in Chicago. You know that, of course, because yesterday you accessed the evidence file." Russ Josephson nodded but his face gave nothing away so Brennan continued placing two photographs on the coffee table in front of them. "Two days ago a young woman called Susan Beech was murdered in a parking garage in New York and the scene was dressed up to look like Maria Taylor's murder."

"What?" Brennan and Don glanced at one another as Russ, clearly surprised leaned forward to stare at the photographs. He looked up at them his face a mask of confusion. "Did her boyfriend drown himself?" It was Brennan and Don's turn to look surprised.

"How did you know?" asked Don.

Russ took a deep breath and ran a hand over his face. He looked tired. "Over the past eight years I've been hunting a serial killer. He's murdered twelve couples in four states over a period of about twenty years. Always boyfriend and girlfriend. In each case the girl is found strangled and holding a red rose. The boyfriend is always suspected of her murder and found drowned. But in each case there is little or no evidence. On the surface they all look like murder-suicides. The murders were increasing in frequency but then suddenly two years ago they stopped. We were out of leads and the investigation was placed on the back-burner until I got a call from a man named Tom Mortimer five days ago." Brennan and Don looked at one another and Don placed the book he had borrowed from Alex Cartwright on the table.

"This Tom Mortimer?"

Russ looked at the book again clearly surprised and nodded. "Yes, he said he was an investigative journalist and that he might have a lead on the murders of Anna Hill and Bruce Deary; the last couple to be killed three years ago in Virginia. He said he thought it might be linked to an old murder in Chicago that he had documented in his book, the murder of Maria Taylor. I … er … pulled a few strings and looked at the evidence and read through the case file. Tom told me he was doing some research and wanted to check out a lead. We had arranged to meet here last night but he didn't show up. I was going to check out his home this morning when I received a call from headquarters to wait here for you." He looked at Don pointedly. "I was told that Jo was with you."

Don hesitated for second before answering. "She's with Mac." A look of what only could be described as irritation passed over Russ' face.

"And where is Mac?" Russ looked pointedly at Don who licked his lips nervously and shrugged. All he knew was that Jo had found out that Mac had gone to 'his cabin' in the national park a few hours drive from Chicago. Don hadn't even known Mac had a cabin. Jo had texted him to say she was on her way there and she would be in touch but that had been eighteen hours ago and now she had disappeared too.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N. _Now where were we? Oh yes, about to reveal the identity of our resident bad guy ... but of course, you will hopefully have worked it out by now!_**_**  
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**Chapter 7**

Brennan nodded irritably to the supercilious-looking building manager as he asked her if he should open the door. His face clearly communicated his disapproval as he twisted the key in the lock and stood back to allow her and the other two police officers to enter. It was the first time that he had had to allow police into one of the apartments. He considered that he lived and worked in one of the more up-market apartment buildings in the city, one where police presence was clearly not _de rigueur_! Brennan turned round to dismiss him and he sniffed haughtily instantly regretting allowing Tom Mortimer to become a tenant. He made a mental note to cross journalists off his list of eligible tenants as he stomped down the hallway towards the elevators.

Don led the way followed by Russ and Brennan. The place was a mess.

"Clearly someone was looking for something," muttered Russ as he surveyed the large open space with white walls and black furniture.

Don shook his head in despair thinking that the apartment was pretty fancy and wishing he could afford such a place. Huge windows, great view over the Chicago river, nice furnishings, upmarket kitchen appliances. Don's eyes almost popped out of his head as he spotted a coffee machine that must have cost more than he made in two months. Tom Mortimer must have made a good living to afford this place.

"Guys?" Brennan called. They followed her voice to the bedroom which was in as much disarray as the other rooms. Brennan pointed a thumb over her shoulder and pulled out her phone to call it in as they looked through the open door into the bathroom. Tom Mortimer's bloated face looked up at them from the water-filled bath.

"Shit!" Don swore softly under his breath. Russ looked at him, his expression conveying that he wholeheartedly agreed with Don's sentiments. Without a word they both began to look through the apartment. Russ took the bedroom and Don took the main living space.

"I've called Chicago PD and my forensics guys are on the way," called Brennan from the hallway. "I'm going to inform the super and see if this building has video surveillance."

"Nothing in the bedroom apart from a lot of jeans and tee-shirts," announced Russ as he joined Don.

"Laptop has gone." Don pointed to the docking station on the desk. "Can't see a phone."

"Hold on." Russ picked out his own phone and dialled the number that Mortimer had given him. It rang and then went straight to voice-mail but they heard nothing in the apartment. "Definitely not here. Let's get Brennan to put a trace on it."

"Look at these. Looks like he's written a few best-sellers." Don pointed to one of the enormous bookshelves next to the desk. Russ joined him and they looked through the stack of books with Tom Mortimer's name on them. "Looks like his speciality was historical murders." Russ tipped his head to read the titles that ranged from mob murders to unsolved cases to fictional murderers. He straightened up as Don pointed to one book that was not quite aligned with the others. The void in the dust on the shelf showed it had been pulled from the shelf recently. Out of curiosity Don pulled the hefty dictionary from the shelf. A little yellow tab was barely visible between the pages. Don opened up the book angling it for Russ to see.

A yellow post-it was stuck to the page under the relevant entry. "Stein = Stone" Tom had written.

"So he wanted to know the German word for stone?" Russ looked at Don puzzled.

"No." Don turned to Brennan as she came back in and held up the book for her to see. BB peered at the words written on the post-it.

"Oh crap! I knew that shrink was weird. Axel Stein. Curtis Stone." Brennan pulled a hand trough her hair as she intoned the two names, her mind working overtime to make the links. "Curtis Stone's alibi was his family. His mom, his dad and his brother ... Alexander ... Alexander Stone … Alex Stone … aka ..."

"... Axel Stein," finished Don.

"Axel Stein? Doctor Axel Stein?" Russ looked at them both as though they were in need of a shrink themselves. "Are you out of your minds? He's one of the most eminent psychologists in the States. He works with the FBI for crying out loud. Jo and I went to a series of his seminars. I even consulted him regarding the Rose Murders..." Russ' voice trailed away " ...until they stopped two years ago when he retired back here after a heart attack ..." Russ began to pace up and down. Don and BB exchanged glances as they waited for him to work out whatever was clearly on his mind. Suddenly Russ looked up at them. "It's just not possible," he moaned but it was clear from his face that he doubted his own words.

Forty-five minutes later, after they had handed over the scene to Chicago PD and a colleague of Brennan's, they piled out of her car in front of Dr Stein's office. The drive over had been busy, each of them trying to make connections. Brennan had got one of her people to call on Mrs Archer to get details on where Mac had gone and Russ had barked out a series of orders to various minions at the FBI to find out every detail of Axel Stein's life. Don had repeatedly tried both Mac and Jo's numbers but both were going straight to voice-mail. Eventually he had called Adam to run a trace on them. Both were off the grid. Something about this wasn't right but he couldn't put his finger on it. He followed Brennan and Russ through the main doors of the office where Gloria was sitting reading a woman's weekly.

"Dr Stein isn't here. He's on his way to San Diego for a conference. He'll be back on Monday," she intoned. Don wondered why Stein didn't just replace her with an answering machine. As if reading his thoughts, she glared at Don and returned her attention to an article on the latest fashion trends.

"We'd like to see his office," announced Brennan in a tone that brooked no nonsense.

"Help yourself." Gloria didn't look up but pointed a lurid green and white nail at his door. Brennan shrugged at the woman's sudden change of heart and they all traipsed into the doctor's plush office. Nothing had changed since their visit the previous day. Brennan started with the desk while Don perused the bookshelves. There was a plethora of psychology books and the usual periodicals. Don stopped at one dry-looking book on psychosomatics and tipped it towards him. One of the pages had been marked and the top of a leaflet could be seen sticking out. He pulled out the slip of paper. "Looks like our Dr Stein has been on the tour," he noted dryly as he held up one of Alex Cartwright's Chicago Tours brochures.

"Oh I knew it." Brennan looked up at the paper Don was waving. "This whole thing was an elaborate set-up to get Mac back here."

Don frowned. "I dunno. I think there's something we're missing..."

"Er guys … I hate to interrupt but I think you should see this." Don and BB turned around and wandered over to the wall that was covered in photographs and diplomas. Russ pointed at a one of the smaller photographs. Don did a double-take unable to believe he hadn't spotted it the previous day. Both Russ and Jo were pictured prominently but the picture had been clearly cut from a larger one. "I remember this. It was a group photo taken at the end of the series of seminars he gave at the FBI. Why would he put this on his wall?"

"If you wanna see his other photos they're in the safe?" came a grating voice from the doorway. "Behind the deer. Eight. Six. Four. One." Gloria sniffed. "Are you going to be much longer 'cos I've got an appointment at the hair salon?"

Don ignored her as he walked over to the large oil painting of a deer that hung above a glass-fronted bookcase. He pulled at the edge of the picture and discovered that it was hinged and it swung away from the wall to reveal a wall-safe. He punched in the code and opened it up. There was a wallet of CDROMs and a small blue photo album. Don opened it, flicked through it and handed it to Russ. "Is it them?" he asked.

Russ nodded as he leafed through the book. "Yeah, these are the couples in the Rose Murders and still some … there are photos here I don't recognize." Russ' face turned a sickly shade of white. "I need to call my superiors." He paused to look at the photograph of himself and Jo before he walked out.

Brennan looked at Don. "Why do I get the feeling that this isn't just about Mac?"

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"_CSI:NY – CSI:NY – CSI:NY"_

.

Jo waited nervously by the window, her eyes scanning the lake and the shore beyond. All was silent. She jumped slightly as the door opened and Mac came back in.

"All of the tyres have been punctured using a knife. There's a inch and a half slit in each one, probably from a hunting knife. There are no obvious prints or tracks. And the boat is trashed too."

"Why?"

Mac's brows were drawn together in a frown as he shook his head softly from side to side. "I don't know unless …"

"Unless what Mac?"

"...unless some one wants to keep us here."

"Why?"

Mac shrugged. "There's the question. Look there's a house at the other end of the lake. I can go and get help but I don't want to leave you here alone."

Jo's heart almost broke at the concern she saw in his eyes and she offered him a nervous smile. "And I don't want to be left. My ankle is a lot better. How far is it?"

Mac pulled a face. "To walk - about six miles. To swim – a little under three."

"Swim? Are you insane?" Jo stared at him.

Mac raised an eyebrow and shrugged nonchalantly. "I've done it before"

Jo's mouth fell open. "You are insane. Well I'm not sure I can walk that far but I certainly can't swim that far."

Mac grinned at her. "Oh I wasn't suggesting that you swim..."

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"_CSI:NY – CSI:NY – CSI:NY"_

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Axel Stein leaned against the tree and watched them through the binoculars. He had watched Mac check out the cars and the boat house before going back in where Jo stood at the window. He had watched as Mac fetched wood and lit the fire. He had lit the lamp and carried it over to Jo seated on the couch. Mac was now moving about the kitchen probably preparing dinner. Axel Stein gripped the binoculars tighter as a wave of anger flooded though him. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. He took a deep breath. And then a second. He had to be patient. He had left clues, a trail of breadcrumbs so hopefully by tomorrow they would be together again and then he could make them see what a huge mistake they had made. And then he could get rid of Taylor. It was perfect – two birds with one stone.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N. _Thank you for the reviews dear readers. Time to bring all of our protagonists together ..._**_**  
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**Chapter 8**

They had appropriated a large conference room and were slowly assembling all the relevant data. People popped in and out bringing notes, carrying reports, relaying information. Don and BB had pinned a huge map to one of the boards and BB was tracing a finger along a road.

"Okay it has to be about here..." She placed a finger on a wooded spot near a lake. "There's a park ranger's station not too far away. I'm going to get them to swing by and check on Mac and Jo." Russ turned around at her words.

"It's him." he said simply. Don walked over to the board that Russ had filled with copies of the photographs from the album, times and dates. Don peered at the board. "He was either in the area or unaccounted for at the time of each of the murders. All this time and it was him. Right under my nose." Russ looked utterly washed out. Don felt for him and he placed his hand on his shoulder.

"You couldn't have known Russ." Russ didn't look convinced. "Did Jo work this case with you?" he asked out of curiosity.

Russ nodded. "Originally I was just one of the team assigned to the case but I inherited the investigation when lead investigator died about eight years ago. This case was how Jo and I met. She was a profiler at the time; she worked on the original profile of the killer when the case got handed over tot he FBI. She moved off the team when we got married but she came back on board every time there was another murder." Russ ran his hand through his hair.

"She'll be fine Russ. Mac won't let anything happen to her." Don assured him.

Russ gave a short wry smile and sighed. "I know. He's a good man."

"Don! Russ!" Brennan stormed back into the room waving a handful of photographs. "Stein's car was spotted at the tolls on Interstate 90 late yesterday evening." She pointed to the map south of their current location. "It's on the route that Mac and Jo would have taken."

"He's already there?" whispered Russ in horror.

"How long before the park rangers get to Mac and Jo?" asked Don, his voice betraying a little of the panic he was beginning to feel.

"About twenty minutes." Brennan watched Don nervously look at his wristwatch and then she looked across at a tall man in a dark suit who had been observing the proceedings from the door. Russ and Don followed her gaze. He nodded once at Brennan before turning away. Brennan grinned. "Come on boys. It looks like the Chicago PD are pulling out all the stops on this one." She stabbed her finger into Russ' chest. "So you better give us some credit when we catch the sonofabitch." She led the way out of the conference room but as she turned down the corridor a voice halted them.

"Yo BB!" Don recognized Larry Milton who was now decked out in a lurid purple and green shirt jogging towards to them, his bulk shaking with every step. "Ran background on the Stones," he wheezed. Don stared at his face which was a bright shade of red and prayed he wasn't about to have a heart attack. "Er … old Pa Stone died about sixteen years ago and according to city records they sold their last place two years ago."

"Where are you going with this Larry? We gotta move."

"Bertha Stone moved to a cottage ..." Larry took a huge breath. "... on the other side of the lake from the Taylor place!"

"What?"

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"_CSI:NY – CSI:NY – CSI:NY"_

.

The sun had just set as Mac slid quietly into the water. He tried not to hiss as the cold penetrated the short sleeved wet suit he had found with other old gear that he had taken from his parent's house and stashed at the back of the boat-shed. He figured he'd be okay as long as he kept moving. He took a firm grip of the old surf board and pushed it out onto the water as he kicked out heading towards the shadows at the western edge of the lake. He glanced back towards the cottage. Jo had done a good job of creating dummies out of blankets and bits of furniture. It looked as though they were both sitting by the fireside. It wouldn't fool anybody for long but hopefully long enough for them to get away from the shore and part way down then he could risk striking out for the centre of the lake.

The board glided silently through the water propelled by Mac's smooth kicks. Jo used her hands to paddle and steer. She shivered as she dipped her hands into the icy cold water. All the while she scanned the shore-line for movement but she saw and heard nothing. They made good progress and, as they reached the point where the shore broke away to their left, she felt Mac loosen his grip and move to the front of the board.

"Are you okay?" he whispered.

"Fine. Do you think we're being watched?"

"If we are they'd have made a move by now. Are you ready?" Jo nodded and handed him the strap which he looped over his head and under one arm. He took one large stroke and then settled into a slow and steady front crawl. As the strap tightened Jo felt the tug on the body board and she settled back onto her stomach and began to paddle trying to match her strokes to his. She couldn't help feeling a slight buzz of exhilaration as she was surprised how quickly the surf board moved across the water but at the same time she was concerned that Mac couldn't possibly keep up the pace. She risked a look behind her. It was truly dark now and the only light was from the moon that popped in and out of the clouds occasionally lighting up the lake for all to see before plunging them once more into darkness. Jo's heart leapt as she thought she saw a figure pass in front of the windows of the cabin that was now receding into the distance. Their ruse would have been discovered. Jo wondered how much distance they had covered. The moon had disappeared again and she could no longer see the shoreline ahead. Fear clutching at her stomach, she applied herself to her task and continued paddling, her strokes in perfect rhythm with Mac's.

.

"_CSI:NY – CSI:NY – CSI:NY"_

.

Don clamped his hands over the earphones to shut out as much of the rotor's sound as possible. "They're not there." Brennan's voice crackled in his ears. "The ranger said that the cars and boat had been disabled and that there were dummies sitting in front of the fire."

"Dummies?" Don glanced at Russ beside him, feeling as confused as Russ looked. They both turned to look at Brennan as she showed the map to their pilot.

"We need you to set us down here at the other side of the lake." The pilot nodded and adjusted his course slightly to allow for the new destination.

Russ leaned forward in his seat and spoke loudly into the microphone. "Where do you think they're headed?"

Brennan turned around to face them. "It seems that the park ranger, Steve, is an old buddy of Mac's from the Marines. According to him, he thinks that Mac would have either headed to the ranger station but there's no sign of him on the way or he would have gone to the cottage across the lake."

"But that's the Stein place!" Don gasped.

Brennan looked grim. "But they don't know that ... which is why we have to get there now. "

.

"_CSI:NY – CSI:NY – CSI:NY"_

.

"Oh crap!" Danny ran a hand through his hair and stared at his wife whose face had gone pale. Adam swivelled around in his chair. They all stared at the screen, the word '_Match_' flashing at them like a warning beacon on top of the two comparative photographs. "It's Stein … or Stone … whatever you want to call him. He was in New York at the time Marcus and Susan were murdered. He must have lured them here."

"It wouldn't have been difficult," muttered Lindsay irritably. "Marcus was a vulnerable young man. He would have been easily manipulated. I wonder if it was Marcus that stole the Bronco or Stein?"

Adam who had been scrolling through a list on the second computer suddenly pointed to his screen. "Hey, according to this, he took the same flight as Mac back to Chicago!"

"The brazen sonofabitch!" Danny slammed his hand into the table, his eyes flashing fire. "He was following him!"

"And that's not all ..." Adam continued. "He's been back and forth between Chicago and New York eighteen times in the past two years."

"Why has he waited all this time to get back at Mac?" asked Lindsay. "It doesn't make sense."

"What if this isn't just about Mac?" said Sheldon quietly, unknowingly echoing Brennan's comment to Don earlier that same day.

"What do you mean?" asked Adam.

Sheldon had been thinking things over. He placed his hands together steepling his fingers. "Curtis Stone kills Mac's sister, and then kills himself. Stone's brother changes his name to Stein, becomes a psychologist, gets himself published, on the lecture circuit, even works with the FBI. But his brother's crime haunts him. Something pushes him to repeat the crime over and over killing other young couples … almost like a homage to his brother. He leaves a rose, a signature for the police. The case is passed to the FBI and is investigated by, among others, Russ and Jo, who at the time, were a young couple about to get engaged. But the killings stopped suddenly two years ago. Why?"

"According to Don, Russ said Stein had a heart attack and moved back to Chicago," Lindsay answered.

"Yes but … also Jo moved to New York! Before that there is no record of Stein coming to New York but as soon as Jo moves here he's making trips every six weeks." Sheldon linked his fingers together deep in thought.

"Wait, are you saying this is about Jo not Mac?" Danny rocked back on his heels stunned.

"I think it's to do with both of them. Many serial killers forge a link with the investigators of their crime, giving them clues, taunting them. In this case Stein even got himself onto the team as a consultant probably so he could observe them. Even though they divorced, every time there was another murder, Russ was forced to consult Jo and Stein succeeded in bringing them back together. Maybe he got a kick out of it. But then two years ago things suddenly go wrong. Jo leaves the FBI and moves to New York and begins working for the last person in the world Stein ever expected to see."

Adam gasped. "Mac!"

Lindsay leaned forward nodding thoughtfully at Sheldon's words. "And he broke his pattern. He dressed Susan Beech and arranged her to look exactly like Mac's sister and he also drugged them. He's never done that to his other victims. He didn't strangle them and drown them like his other killings because this killing wasn't for him. It was to get Mac to go back to Chicago. He had to know that Mac would put two and two together and go in search of any surviving members of the Stone family, and, I think, he knew that Jo, as his partner, would follow." Lindsay paused. "And now we have Russ turn up too because of some tip from a journalist who conveniently ends up dead. Mac. Jo. Russ. All in the same place. That can't be a coincidence."

Sheldon nodded in agreement.

For a moment everyone was silent then Adam asked the all important question. "Why? What's his end game?"


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Mac was exhausted. The cold was penetrating deep into his bones and every stroke seemed to get harder and harder. He stopped and turned onto his back. Jo floated up to him and he grabbed onto the board. His breathing was laboured. "Almost there," he stammered.

The moon came out from behind the clouds and illuminated the shore around them. Mac looked around. Only another hundred yards to go. He dredged up the last of his energy and struck out once more. Jo shivered uncontrollably as she paddled but the part of her brain that wasn't exhausted recognized it for what it was. She was running a fever. Mac had been right. Her ankle, which was now throbbing painfully, was infected. Her body was reacting by raising her temperature. She hoped it wasn't far to the cottage because she was rapidly running out of energy and she knew that Mac must be too.

After what seemed an eternity they arrived at the edge of the lake where Mac was finally able to stand and pull the surf board to land. Jo felt his arms close around her and help her onto the shore. She settled herself against a tree and allowed her aching arms and shoulders to rest while Mac grabbed the bag she had carried over for him and pulled out some dry clothes. Mac reached up to grab the tab and pull down the zipper on the wet suit. As he did so he thought he heard the faint sound of a helicopter but looking around he couldn't see anything. The moon was now shining brightly and the clouds had all but disappeared leaving a bright night that promised a cool start to the morning. Mac smiled down at Jo who was looking up at him.

He felt himself blush. "Er … do you mind?"

"Not at all," she teased as she flashed him a huge grin. Mac's eyebrows shot up and he bit his bottom lip nervously.

"Jo!" he hissed. Jo giggled and made a show of covering her eyes. Mac shook his head in amusement and turned his back on her. He changed as quickly as he could abandoning the wet-suit in the bushes. As he did up his boots, he could see she was struggling. Her eyes were closed and she winced when she moved her leg. He had seen her struggle to get over to the boat house and he knew that she was lying and that she was not fine. An unease settled at the pit of his stomach. Her ankle was infected and he knew from experience how quickly her condition might deteriorate. He had to get help.

"Jo." Mac touched her shoulder gently. "Do you think you can make it?" Jo's eyes flew open. She hadn't realized that she had been dozing.

"Yes … yes, of course. Is it far?"

"No, just the other side of these trees." Mac helped her to her feet and handed her the stick. He pulled on the back-pack and Jo leaned against him and he took as much of her weight as he could. As he gripped her waist he hoped and prayed that he had made the right call.

.

"_CSI:NY – CSI:NY – CSI:NY"_

.

Russ had to duck as he jumped down from the helicopter, the down-wash tugging at his clothes and hair. He followed Don and Brennan as they ran doubled-over to a large 4x4 where two men stood waiting for them.

"Steve Miller, Park Ranger." The older of the two men stuck his hand out in greeting. "This is John Walsh." Steve's young colleague smiled and looked at them nervously, impressed by the arrival of two big city cops and an FBI agent by helicopter. Brennan made the introductions and they all piled into the car. Steve swung them around as Brennan asked how far it was. "It's about three miles. What exactly is this all about? I can't imagine what old Mrs Stone could be involved in. She's just a sweet old lady … slightly loopy if you know what I mean but she wouldn't harm a fly. Just potters around in that garden of hers all day feeding the birds."

"It's not her we're worried about. It's her son Alexander Stone also known as Axel Stein. We believe that he's a serial killer … and the brother of the man who killed Mac's sister."

"What?" Steve looked at them in the rear-view mirror. "So that's why Mac was asking about her?"

Don and BB exchanged glances. "Wait you mean Mac knows about Mrs Stone?"

"Yeah." Steve replied as he swung the car east. "I was stunned when he just turned up out of the blue asking if the cabin was empty. He hasn't been up here in a few years. Then suddenly there he was asking about Mrs Stone of all people. I told him that she's lived here for a couple of years alone. She has groceries delivered every week but I've never seen anyone visit but then it's pretty remote and we don't get round there often." He lifted a hand. "It's about a mile down this track." He pulled the car off the road and they bumped down a narrow track between the trees. "Gotta admit I was pretty surprised that anyone would let their elderly mom live out here like this but we call in now and again when we're out this way and she's always seems happy enough."

"Steve, can you cut your lights and pull us up just short of the house. I'd rather not announce our arrival," Brennan asked causing Steve to frown but he merely nodded.

"Is there anywhere else Mac and Jo could have gone?" asked Russ.

Steve shook his head. "Without transport he would have headed towards the road and thumbed a lift to the ranger station and then on to town, or he would have come here. There are a bunch of rental cottages and a camp ground on the other side of the lake but they're not open at this time of year. I guess he could have gone there but he would have known that he wouldn't find help out of season." Steve slowed the car and flicked off the lights. As their eyes adjusted to the dark they could see the faint outline of a cottage, one of it's windows brightly lit. Steve pulled to a stop and cut the engine. They all got out. Everything seemed quiet and peaceful. Brennan pulled out a bag and they divested themselves of their coats as she handed out the vests. Steve seemed surprised but then he pulled off his own jacket and grabbed a camouflage vest from the trunk. "John stay here. One hand on the radio. Keep your eyes open." Steve smiled grimly and his young colleague nodded nervously as he watched the others don the bullet-proof vests.

"Okay Don and I will take the back of the house. Russ, you and Steve see if you can work your way round to the front."

Steve nodded. "Come on, there's a small path along the edge of the lake." He nodded at Russ who followed him into the trees to their right as Don cut left followed by BB.

Russ cringed as twigs and leaves crunched underfoot sounding unnaturally loud in the stillness. He was impressed that the older man in front of him could move so quickly and so quietly but then Brennan had said he had been a Marine like Mac. The thought of Mac ignited a spark of jealousy. Russ knew it was over for him and Jo. It had been for a long while. He still loved her and he knew that, deep down, she still had feelings for him too. But love wasn't the problem. They were. Their personalities. When they were together their relationship was tempestuous at best and, at it's worst, downright destructive. He knew it had to end and though he didn't like it, he had slowly come to accept it. Although he was jealous at the thought that she would turn to Mac, he harboured no resentment. Mac was exactly the type of man Jo would go for and, though he hated to admit it, he was exactly the kind of man she needed but all of a sudden anger burned inside him at the knowledge that Mac would deliberately bring Jo into danger. Mac knew that this was the Stone's place yet he still brought her here. If anything happened to Jo … His thoughts were interrupted as Steve stopped and pointed. Steve bobbed down.

"The ground is wet. Someone came out of the water here."

Russ pulled out a dark object from the bushes. "A wet suit?"

"And a surf board." Steve indicated the old worn board hidden under the branches at the edge of the water. "They're definitely here. Trust Mac to take the short-cut and swim. Come on." Both men made their way quickly down the path threading through the trees towards the house. As they emerged they were surprised to see Don and BB looking through the window at the front of the house. As though sensing their presence Don turned around and waved them over.

Don holstered his weapon and placed his hand on the doorknob. "Come on. It seems we're just in time for tea." Russ looked at him in astonishment and quickly holstered his weapon too as all four of them trailed into the house.

"Do come through!" The voice was frail and as the four stepped into the large front room with it's cosy interior and roaring fire, they could see an elderly lady enveloped in a multitude of shawls sitting next to Mac who was holding a cup and saucer. All four stared at him in astonishment. "Would you like a cup of tea?" Mrs Stone asked. Mac grinned at Don and the look of utter stupefaction on his face.

"There are cookies too." Mac nodded to the tin sitting next to the tea pot on the table in front of them.

Russ was the first to recover. "Jo!" He rushed over to the couch where Jo was propped up among a multitude of cushions also sipping at a cup of tea. "You're hurt."

"Russ I'm fine. I just twisted my ankle."

"Actually, she's not fine. Steve I think there's a rotten splinter of wood in there. It may be infected. I'd appreciate it if you could take a look." Steve looked at Mac for a second then held an arm up with his finger and thumb in the air. _He here?_ Mac shook his head slightly and Steve nodded and moved towards the couch. Don and BB looked at them both wondering what the hand signal referred to. "Detective Brennan, nice to see you again. Allow me to introduce Mrs Stone."

The old lady smiled up at her new visitors. "Do call me Bertha. Would you like a cup of tea?"

"Bertha?" Mac placed his hand gently on her shoulder. "I think perhaps we could do with a refill."

"Oh yes of course. You make yourselves comfortable and I'll go make some more." Mac helped her to her feet and she picked up the pot and disappeared into the kitchen.

"Mac what the hell ..." Don started only to be stopped by Mac.

"Not here," he whispered. "Steve?"

Steve looked up from examining Jo's ankle under Russ' watchful eye. "It's definitely infected and needs to be treated. She's running a mild fever but nothing that a dose of antibiotics won't clear up. I need to take her to the medical centre in town."

Mac nodded. "Do it. Don, Detective Brennan, I need you to stay here and keep an eye on Mrs Stone. I don't think Stein will come here but if he does I need you to be here..." Mac turned away.

"Whoa! How did you know that Stone was calling himself Stein?" Don asked.

Mac smiled and picked up a book from a side-table and showed them the cover declaring it to be by Dr Axel Stein. He turned it to the photograph on the back. "Bertha told me when I visited her yesterday. She's very proud of her son." Mac replaced the book on the table and turned away.

"Where are you going?"

Mac looked back at Don, his face grim. "To end this. Just keep Bertha safe. She doesn't need to know about this. She's already lost one son Don and now I'm about to take away her other."

"Mac you can't go alone." Jo cried.

"He won't be alone." Everyone turned in astonishment as Russ stood up, a determined look on his face. His eyes bored into Mac's. "Because I'm going with you."


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N. Phew that was a relief. Thought I might get flamed for sending Russ off with Mac ... now what trouble can I get them into? ;-)  
**

**Chapter 10**

"Twenty couples?" Mac felt sick as he finished listening to Russ' explanation of how he came to be there. "And you say he killed the journalist too?"

"Yeah. Looks that way." Neither man said another word as they threaded their way through the trees. Russ wished fervently that he had dressed a little more comfortably for woodland terrain. He watched Mac ahead of him looking totally at ease in torn jeans, heavy boots and dark green lumberjack shirt, a far cry from the city suits Russ had seen him wear before. At Jo's insistence, Mac was also now sporting Steve's camouflage vest, a total contrast to Russ' own city shoes, shirt and tie and dark blue Chicago PD vest. They had been going at a steady pace along the eastern edge of the lake for almost an hour when Mac stopped. He signalled to Russ to be quiet and he slowly made his way to the edge of the trees where he dropped to one knee. Russ bent down beside him and they looked out over the camp ground, a wide open space in front of them and, some twenty yards away, a series of dark shapes arranged in several rows.

"There are about twenty cabins." Mac raised a hand to indicate a larger wooden structure at the far side of the clearing. "And there are rest rooms and showers in that block at the back for the campers with tents."

"Are you sure he's here?"

Mac nodded. "Only logical place for him to be if he's been keeping an eye on us. His mother's place is too far and she told me yesterday she hasn't seen him in weeks. I believed her. Also I thought I saw a light moving round over here last night. That's why I took the other side of the lake to get Jo out."

Russ nodded and silently berated himself for having thought that Mac would take Jo into danger. "Okay what now?"

"Now we need to figure out which one he is staying in. I suggest we make our way round behind the shower block and approach from that side." Mac pointed up at the moon. "More shadows," he added by way of explanation.

Russ nodded as he followed Mac, both men holding guns loosely in their hands. Russ was more than happy to let Mac take lead. He had to admit to feeling more than a little uncomfortable as he pushed through the dense foliage, not because of Stein but because he wasn't used to chasing his perps in a manner that he could only describe as jungle warfare.

.

"_CSI:NY – CSI:NY – CSI:NY"_

.

Jo Danville was not a happy woman. She was angry and frustrated. Here she was being carted off to hospital for a ridiculous twisted ankle while her partner and her ex-husband were playing GI Joe in the woods chasing a serial killer who, according to Don, was something of a hunter if the photographs in his office were anything to go by. She should have been there. She should have been the one to go. If only she hadn't been so stupid as to hurt her ankle. She was also angry that Don and Detective Brennan weren't there either. They should have gone. Why did Mac have to go? Why did Russ? As if sensing her thoughts, Steve turned around in the front passenger seat and smiled.

"You okay Jo? She nodded. "Don't worry. Mac knows what he's doing. He'll look after your ex." Jo snorted and Steve smiled. "Or is it Mac you're more worried about?" Jo's mouth dropped open. Steve hooted with laughter. "Thought so. Quit worrying. He may be getting a little long in the tooth but he's still got what it takes."

"It's not like that." Jo muttered but Steve laughed all the more. Jo closed her eyes. _Oh Lord was she that transparent?_

Meanwhile Don, although not happy at being side-lined by Mac, was enjoying himself. He leaned forward and took another cookie. "Apple and cinnamon," cooed the old lady. "I do like to see a man with a good appetite. Now do help yourself Beatrice." Don grinned at he watched BB shuffle uncomfortably at the use of her given name and glare daggers at him. "It's so nice to have some company. I don't see many people any more. Of course that nice park ranger comes by now and again and it was so nice of Mr Taylor to come over. I had no idea there was a cabin at the other side of the lake. I don't get around as much as I used to."

Don smiled at BB which she returned as the old lady prattled on. Occasionally one of them would get up and wander over to the window but all was quiet. BB took her turn around the room. As she did so she paused in front of a faded photograph of two young boys in bathing costumes with medals around their necks.

"My boys at the swimming gala..." Don and BB looked at Bertha Stone. "My Curtis is dead now. He's with his angel in heaven." Don felt his stomach lurch at her words and a wave of pain flooded through him. He looked at BB not quite sure what to say. BB didn't fail to miss the look that passed across his face as she sat down next to Bertha again.

"Do you mean Maria?" she asked gently.

For a moment the old lady didn't say anything. "He loved her so very much. We told him that they were far too young and that he should wait till he was older but he was so very much in love." Mrs Stone looked up at her. "The police said that Curtis killed her ... Maria … but he didn't. He wouldn't hurt a fly. Such a good gentle boy. It wasn't Curtis." BB shuddered at the tormented look in her eyes as she saw the truth.

"Bertha, did Alexander kill Maria?" she asked quietly.

Bertha Stone looked away not wanting to admit what she knew in her heart to be true. "Alexander always looked after his little brother. He said that it was all right. That they were together just like Romeo and Juliet. My Curtis and Maria. That's what he does you know. He's a doctor. He helps them." Her hand fluttered over the book on the side table. Slowly she got up. "I'm tired now. I think I'll go to bed. You young people can stay up as long as you like. There are more cookies in the kitchen." She paused as she reached the door and turned back to look at them. They could see the tears in her eyes. "Mac's gone to stop him hasn't he?"

"Yes."

The old lady nodded sadly and she looked frailer than ever, her small frame almost hidden beneath the shawls she wore. "He looks just like his sister. Same hair, same eyes. Even after all these years I knew it was him. I'm so sorry."

Neither of them said anything for some time after she had left then BB got up and moved over to sit beside Don. She could see the pain in his eyes. "You lost someone," she said simply. Don nodded and she waited for him to tell her.

.

"_CSI:NY – CSI:NY – CSI:NY"_

.

"Mac." Russ tapped him on the shoulder and pointed to the trees. Mac could just make out the outline of a car parked so as to be partially hidden by the undergrowth. They made their way over to it. "Is it his?" Quietly Mac tested the door. To his surprise it swung open and he reached in and opened the glove-box. He pulled out he registration and nodded. Russ disappeared round the other side and carefully opened the trunk. "Here." Joining him, Mac watched as he pulled out a bag and unzipped it. There was a laptop and a file and a cell phone. "The missing items from the journalist's place." Mac nodded and reached into the trunk and clicked open a large metal box. "Whoa! Do I want to know what was in there?"

Mac pointed to the various shapes in the foam interior. "Hunting rifle – stock, barrel, scope, ammunition, knife … probably the one he used to slash our tires." Russ nodded and gripped his gun a little tighter. Mac quietly closed the box and the trunk and they made their way back to the cabins. "Which one?"

"You pick. You've been right so far." Russ grinned at Mac who shook his head in amusement.

"Well if it was me, I guess I'd pick one closer to the lake so as to have a direct line of sight with my cabin over the water."

"Okay, you lead. I'll follow." Russ grinned again as he gestured for Mac to take point.

"Gee thanks." The two men crept up to the nearest of the cabins and edged their way to the corner. Mac ran quickly to the next one on the right while Russ mirrored his action to the left. They peered in through the windows, exchanged glances to indicate that there was nothing and then they continued on to the next. And the next. Then suddenly Mac held up a hand. He pointed both fingers towards his eyes and then to centre of the three cabins that stood between them and the lake just visible through the trees. Russ nodded and backtracked to join him. Russ squatted down next to Mac and peered across the gap wondering what Mac had spotted. Then he saw it. A milk carton standing upright in a bowl just under the steps to the cabin. Outdoor refrigerator!

They exchanged glances each knowing what the other had to do. Russ lifted his weapon as Mac sprinted across the gap. Suddenly a shot rang out, clipping the edge of Mac's vest and sending him spinning to the ground. Russ ducked out from behind the cabin and loosed off half a dozen shots in the general direction of the shooter thereby giving Mac enough time to scramble to his feet and take shelter by the cabin Stein was using. Russ pointed towards the trees. Mac nodded his thanks and motioned for Russ to circle round. Russ waited for Mac to give the signal. Mac nodded and he ran knowing instinctively that Mac would provide covering fire. Several shots rang out as he ran but stopped as Mac returned fire emptying his clip. The shooter turned his attention to where Mac was crouched and he was obliged to stop firing and take cover.

Russ kept moving hoping that none of the shots had reached their mark. He dashed back the way he had come and zigzagged among the cabins making his way ever nearer to the edge of the woods where he thought Stein must be hiding. He heard more shots and then all fell silent.

"I knew you'd come Russ. Where's Jo? Where are you hiding her? She needs to be here." Russ frowned as he heard Stein call out. His voice echoed off the trees and it was impossible to pinpoint exactly where he was hiding.

"She's not here Alexander. Give it up. We know all about the young couples you murdered. It's over." Mac's firm tone indicated that he was all right. Russ reckoned that he was still pinned down by Stein's cabin.

"Nooo." Stein's voice took on an eerie quality as he taunted Mac. "You can't have got her away. Where are you hiding her? She needs to be here with Russ." A burst of shots echoed through the trees but Russ spotted the muzzle flashes.

"Dammit!" Russ ran a hand through his hair. It looked as though Stein had got himself a perch up in the trees. He waited wondering what the next move should be.

"I went to your mother's." Mac's voice rang out clearly. There was another volley of shots.

Stein didn't answer but fired another burst in Mac's direction.

"We had tea and we talked about you … and Curtis … and Maria. Everyone blamed Curtis didn't they? ... But Curtis didn't murder Maria … did he Alexander?"

Stein's scream of rage echoed through the trees before he once more unleashed a hail of bullets on Mac's position.

Russ smiled to himself as he heard the distinct click of a cartridge being changed. "Clever bastard," he muttered as he realized that Mac was goading him into using up his ammunition. Russ took the opportunity to make for the undergrowth just north of Stein's position. He winced as thorns tore at the material of his thin dress pants as he inched his way closer.

Mac leaned back against the rough wall of the wooden cabin and touched his cheek with his fingers. He felt the wetness there from where a chunk of flying wood had caught his face. He looked down at the blood-stained fingers impassively as he tried to draw Stein's attention. "It was you who killed Maria wasn't it? Not your brother. I could see it in your mother's eyes." Mac closed his eyes for a moment. He could still feel the touch of the old lady's hand on his as she looked at him and told him how much he resembled his sister. His stomach tightened and he felt a wave of nausea as he was forced to admit that he had killed the wrong brother. He had never even considered that Alexander could have been involved. He cowered as Stein answered with more bullets but every shot he fired left him with less ammunition and a chance for Russ to get closer.

"You killed her and your brother died for your crime..." Mac shouted hating himself as he did so knowing full well that he was to blame for Curtis' death.

"You don't understand anything." Stein screamed. "They were meant to be together. I had to ensure that they were together ... like Romeo and Juliet. "

Mac frowned. "What do you mean?"

"United forever in death, the way that they couldn't ever be in life. They would never have been allowed to marry. Our families would have seen to that. You would have seen to that. So I had to help them. I had to help my brother be with her."

Mac had to keep him talking and hopefully firing. "You didn't help him Alexander . He killed himself."

"Nooo. Don't lie. You pushed him into the river. I saw you. That's why I have to tell Jo. So she's knows what kind of man you are. So that she'll go back to her husband. Then I can help them too like all the others. I can help them be together forever."

Russ flattened himself against the tree. Stein's voice was loud now, right above him. The hide was good almost invisible in the moonlight. A perfect spot. He risked a quick look but there was no way up. He waited as he listened to the exchange with Mac. He had read the file and part of him had asked that same question. Had Mac had anything to do with Curtis' death? For some reason he found himself regretting knowing that Mac had pushed him but then …Russ started … how did Stein know that unless...

"You were there?" Mac's voice came hesitantly, uncertainty underlining the question. "If you were there why didn't you help your brother? Why didn't you save him?"

"I did save him ... don't you see? He had to die so he could be with Maria. So they could be free!" Stein unleashed an intense hail of bullets in Mac's direction. "And now … you need to die so Jo can be with Russ!" Bullets spat from the rifle and gouged chunks out of the cabin sending them flying in all directions. Russ raised his gun and sprang out from behind the tree emptying his clip in the direction of the hide. The gunfire stopped and all was silent.

"Russ?" Mac's voice had a slight edge to it.

"I'm good. You?" Taking cover once more, Russ changed his clip before stepping out cautiously his gun pointed up at the tree. Mac answered in the affirmative as Russ circled the hide but he was unable to see anything. There was no sound, no movement. Mac looked around the corner and spotted Russ emerging from the trees his gun still pointed towards the hide. Mac got up wincing from where the bullet had nicked his side earlier and dusted himself off. Stepping out from behind the cabin he took a couple of steps towards Russ when a single shot rang out. He felt a huge force slam into him taking the air from his lungs and the world tilted.

Russ' heart leapt into his mouth at the shot. Taking two steps back he emptied his second clip into the hide from the front. As the trigger clicked to empty a deathly silence took over. Slowly a hand slipped from behind the camouflage netting to hang immobile, a trickle of blood dripping slowly down the thumb to land on the damp ground below. Russ lowered his gun and let out a slow shaky breath. He turned to see Mac sprawled on his back in the centre of the cabins. "Shit!" He took off at a sprint slithering to halt beside Mac. He fell to his knees and pulled at the Velcro tabs on the vest while pressing a hand to Mac's throat. "Mac?"

"Oh God! That hurts!" wheezed Mac.

"Huh?" Russ looked down at Mac's face contorted in agony and suddenly burst out laughing as the tension that had built up burst forth. "Shit! Mac! I thought you were dead."

"You wish!" Mac grunted which seemed to make Russ laugh even more. "Oh … quit laughing. It's not … bloody … funny!" In fact every breath seemed to take a huge effort and Mac felt as though an elephant was sitting on his chest.

Russ sat back on his heels waiting for Mac to recover. "You know for a minute there I thought I might be in serious trouble."

"Huh? Why's that?" Although the pain was rapidly diminishing, Mac decided that attempting to move was a little too much so he was quite happy to lie there for a little longer.

"Well Jo would have never forgiven me if I'd let you get shot."

"Oh right!" Mac considered his answer for a minute then opened his eyes and attempted to focus on Russ' grinning face. "Wait a minute. I did get shot. Twice."

"Yeah." Russ grinned. "But I'm not the one who's going to have to tell her." Russ' grin widened as he stood up and stuck his hand out to help Mac up. "You are."

Mac looked up at him and shut his eyes again. "Oh great!"


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N. Not too mad at me for making Russ the hero? And what do mean not enough Mac whump? There was I thinking I ought to tone it down for this story having previously stabbed him, beaten him up, shot him, buried him under an avalanche and cut off his hand! LOL! Oh well not to worry I'm sure I can come up with something for my next story ... but first it's time to draw this one to an end.  
**

**Chapter 11**

The small medical facility in the local town was buzzing with excitement as word spread that they had three NYPD detectives, a Chicago PD detective and the FBI in town hunting a serial killer. Rosie, the centre's receptionist had a soft spot for the shy John Walsh and had managed to get all the juicy details out of the young park ranger. She was just recounting to her cousin in Orlando how one of the NYPD detectives had been injured and brought in the previous evening when the doors swished open and three men entered. Rosie's blond curls bounced up and down and she stopped in mid-sentence as she took in their state of dress and that one of three was being supported by his friend. "Gotta go … call you later!" she hissed. "This has to be the most exciting night shift since Mrs Gallespie had triplets." She slammed down the receiver and quivered in anticipation as the taller of the three men approached her desk.

"My friend over there needs immediate medical attention and I'd like to see Detective Jo Danville," Russ demanded firmly. Rosie merely nodded overwhelmed by his handsome features and authoritative air. She picked up the phone and called Dr Rosenberg who appeared within minutes. She frowned deeply as she approached Mac noting his pale face and strained features.

"What happened?"

"Rifle shots to the side and chest. He was wearing a vest but he's in a lot of pain." Don answered for Mac who, despite insisting he was fine, was running on his last reserves of energy. Rosie's mouth dropped open at the words rifle shots.

"Trouble breathing? Faintness?"

Mac shook his head.

"How much pain?"

"A little!" Mac raised his eyes to hers unable to hide it and she immediately read the answer. She didn't have to hear Don's snort of disgust at his friend's blatant lie.

"Right. Come this way." She led them through the double doors and across a corridor to a treatment room with two beds on each side. The corner bed had the curtains pulled. She looked at Russ and pointed to it. "Detective Danville is fine. She's in the end cubicle. I've cleaned the wound and given her antibiotics and painkillers. We decided it was best to keep her here until you arrived. Please don't disturb her if she's still sleeping." She turned to Mac and Don. "Now if you'll have a seat, I'll be right with you." She pointed to the nearest bed.

Jo was dozing lightly dreaming of swimming in the cool blue lake when she became aware of voices. Blinking away her sleep she lifted her wrist and tried to focus on her wrist-watch. Twenty after six! She did a double-take. She had slept through half the night. Suddenly her stomach flipped wondering what on earth had happened since Steve had brought her in for treatment. The antibiotics and pain-killers must have knocked her out. She hauled herself upright, pulled off the covers and swung her legs over the side. She was looking for her jeans and crutches when the curtain tweaked and Russ put his head in.

"Hey there!" Russ grinned. "It's okay she's awake." Russ pulled the curtain aside and Jo could see Mac sitting on the edge of the furthest bed with Don standing beside him. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine. What happened?"

Russ and Mac exchanged a brief look.

"We got him," answered Russ simply. Jo narrowed her eyes looking at them suspiciously. All three men looked exhausted but Russ and Mac looked like they had been through the wars. Their clothes were soiled and torn. Russ had scratches on the backs of his hands and there was blood on his pants and shirt. Her eyes travelled to Mac who appeared pale but who was looking at her intently though Don looked jittery. "So how's the ankle? Better?" Jo looked at Russ and immediately knew he was deflecting.

"It's fine!" she muttered irritably. "I just need to stay off it for a couple of days. Did you talk to Ellie and Tyler?"

"Jo, they're fine! I talked to Tyler last night. They went to the movies and got Chinese take-out. Tonight they're going swimming and to your next-door neighbours for pot-roast."

Jo rolled her eyes. "Oh Lord! The entire apartment will smell of garlic prawns and chlorine! Are you all right? What about Stein?"

"He's dead." Russ said quietly.

"Tell me what happened."

Russ sighed. He knew she wasn't going to let it go. "Mac was right. We tracked him to the camp-site. He was holed up in a hide. There was a brief shoot-out and I was forced to take him down. Local PD are taking care of it until our guys get here."

"And no one was hurt?" Jo pressed looking at Don not Russ.

"We're fine as you can see," answered Russ but Jo felt a smug sense of satisfaction seeing Don's eyes flick nervously towards Mac who was perched somewhat stiffly on the edge of the bed.

"Oh man! My vest!" Steve's voice echoed around the small room as the double-doors swung open with a bang. All three men winced. Steve appeared holding a camouflage vest in one hand and a phone in the other. "Morning Jo. You feeling better this morning? Get some sleep?"

"Yes thank you Steve. What's wrong with your vest?" she asked innocently while favouring Mac with a sly look.

"Mac got it shot full of holes. Look at that! My favourite vest!" He proudly held up the vest for her to see quite ignorant of the fact his three companions were all cringing. Jo's mouth dropped open at the sight of the hole in the dead centre of the vest. She glared at Mac and then at Russ.

But as she opened her mouth to speak, Russ grinned at her and pecked her on the cheek. "Well glad to see you're feeling better. I'll … er … leave you to it then. Reports to write, calls to make … you know how it is. Phone me!" He held his hand to to ear with thumb and finger making the shape of a phone as he backed out of the cubicle. He turned and whispered to Mac as he left. "Good luck buddy … you're gonna need it!"

Jo's eyes flashed as they met Mac's. But before she could say anything Dr Rosenberg returned with a wheelchair, a clipboard under her arm. She fixed Jo with an icy stare. "Detective Danville, you not cleared to leave yet." She waved a hand to indicate Jo should get back into bed then she shooed Don away and drew the curtains around the bed where Mac was sitting.

Don turned to face Jo. He offered her his best smile but Jo was having none if it and her face made that abundantly clear. "Crap!" he muttered as he took a seat by Jo's bed praying that he wasn't the one going to bear the brunt of her wrath. As though in answer to his prayers BB pushed one of the doors open and entered quietly. She saw Don and Jo and flashed them a huge grin.

"Hey there! Brought you breakfast. How are feeling Jo?" She held up a bag. Don grinned and rubbed his hands in glee. Even Jo had to smile and admit she was feeling pretty good considering though her mind was on what was happening not eight feet away.

Dr Rosenberg pressed her fingers gently against the swollen black and purple bruise. She felt her patient wince and draw in his breath with a hiss. She also felt the bone move. She glanced up at her patient's pale face surprised at his self-control. Her eyes travelled over a wound on his left pectoral. "When did you get that?" she asked.

"Beirut '83."

She rolled her eyes. Ex-military. She might have known. "Okay you're going to need x-rays and I'd like to do a blood work-up. You've got at least one broken rib and I'm afraid you might have a cracked sternum. I must say I'm surprised your blood pressure is normal. That cut will need cleaning," she added nodding to his face. "You do realize you are going to have to take it easy for a while? No exertion. I understand you're from New York?" Mac nodded. "Well I wouldn't recommend any long-distance travel for a couple of weeks unless absolutely necessary. Do you have somewhere you can stay locally?"

Mac nodded. "I have a cabin on the lake."

"Good, a little R&R is exactly what is needed. I'm going to get you something for the pain. I take it you'd like to see Detective Danville before we go for the x-rays?"

Mac smiled shyly. "Yes I'd like that."

Dr Rosenberg smiled. "I thought so." She pointed to the wheelchair and raised her eyebrows at Mac's look of disgust. "Yes you do!" she said firmly. "I'll send Sheila to get you when I've got the equipment fired up. Any other injuries I need to know about?" Mac shook his head and she helped him into the chair. She pulled aside the curtain surprised to see a breakfast party going on on the other side of her small ward. All three turned their heads immediately and Jo's eyes widened as she caught a glimpse of the black and purple bruising partially concealed by Mac's open shirt before Mac pulled it together. Dr Rosenberg pushed Mac over. "Five minutes and no eating!" she ordered as she whirled around.

BB looked at Don and they both made excuses to leave. For a moment neither of them spoke then Mac reached out tentatively and took Jo's hand. "I'm glad you're okay."

Jo sighed and looked at him. "What's the damage this time?"

"Broken rib, maybe a cracked sternum. Not too bad."

Jo rolled her eyes and looked at him despairingly. "What am I going to do with you?"

A glint came into Mac's eyes. "Well the Doc says I shouldn't travel for a couple of weeks and you're due a little vacation so what do you say we kill two birds with one stone?" Jo frowned a little wondering where he was going with this. "I … er … know this cosy little cabin by a beautiful lake … good company ... great food ..." At this Mac gave a wry smile and cleared his throat. "... fantastic fishing … roaring log fires ..."

Jo's look of utter surprise was quickly replaced by a broad smile. "... not to mention perfect for skinny-dipping?" she asked.

A cheeky look turned up the corners of his mouth. "Well I'm game if you are!"

"Mac Taylor!"


	12. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

The applause diminished as the dark-suited man stepped away from the microphone and the room fell silent as Chief Sinclair stepped up to the podium. "Thank you Special Agent Wilkinson … and now … it is my great pleasure to present these special awards to a fine team of officers who are a credit to law enforcement in this country. We are constantly striving to raise the bar and I am very proud of the outstanding example of inter-agency cooperation and team-work they have demonstrated. It is through their hard work and dedication that Alexander Stone has been brought to justice. Ladies and gentlemen, Detective Beatrice Brennan of the Chicago Police Department, Agent Russ Josephson of the FBI, and Detectives Donald Flack and Jo Danville of our very own NYPD."

The applause was over-whelming especially when Don and Jo's names were mentioned. "It isn't right," whispered Lindsay to Danny as they stood at the back of the hall. "Mac should be there too."

"Damn right," whispered Adam as he too clapped enthusiastically.

"I know what you mean but I can understand why he didn't want to draw attention to his involvement," added Sheldon. "And besides, he didn't want to put Sinclair in a difficult position."

"Huh, I can't imagine why after what Sinclair tried to do to him. What I wouldn't give to see Sinclair eat his words and give one them awards to Mac," muttered Danny glaring at Sinclair. "And now look at him … he's milking this for all it's worth. Anyone would think it was all his idea." Lindsay hooked her arm through his to calm her husband's ruffled feathers.

"When's the boss coming back anyway?" asked Adam.

Danny shrugged. "Dunno. Jo said something about him stopping over in Chicago to see his godmother."

"His godmother? Wow, she must be really old."

"Adam!" Lindsay chided.

"Well come on! The boss is getting on a bit, I mean, not that you would think it after all that Rambo stuff he pulled..."

"Adam!" Lindsay looked shocked but Adam was on a roll.

"... you know at his age, you'd think he'd be past all that swimming in ice cold lakes, running through forests, playing hide and seek with serial killers, getting shot at … " Adam looked at the horror on Lindsay's face and the smirk on Danny's; his voice petered out. "... he's standing right behind me isn't he?"

"Yes he is," whispered Mac.

Adam turned around slowly. "Wow Boss … er it's good to see you back … er … you're looking great ..."

"...for my age?" Mac's eyes twinkled dangerously but a small smile played at the edge of his lips.

Adam did a fantastic impression of a fish out of water. "Oh look here's Jo."

"Oh thank the Lord that's over!" Jo exclaimed as she joined them. "I can't believe you managed to duck out of that one Mac Taylor, " she hissed. Jo's jewellery jingled as she threw her hands in the air and waved her award with a look of disgust. She fully intended to hide that at the back of a drawer permanently. "Let's get out of here and grab a drink. Where's Don?"

Mac smiled and nodded. "I think he's a little busy right now." They all followed his eyes and spotted Don and BB in corner, their heads close together occupied by some private conversation.

"I think our Detective Brennan may be getting a personal tour of New York this evening." Danny waggled his eyebrows suggestively and Lindsay batted at his arm.

"What about Russ?" asked Mac as Russ waved at them from the other side of the room.

"He's off to D.C. for more accolades." Jo smiled and hooked her arm through Mac's. She looked intently into his eyes conveying a silent question. _How did it go?_ Mac nodded almost imperceptibly indicating that his trip to Maria's grave with Irene had helped him begin his journey towards forgiving himself. He placed his hand on hers and the light squeeze told her more than any number of words could say. She knew that some of the guilt would never leave him but that he would learn to live with it. Jo smiled up at him. "So you buying?"

Mac bristled. "Hey why do I have to buy?"

Jo flicked her head at the rest of the team standing behind them. "Cos otherwise I may have to tell them how I know about that shrapnel wound you got in Desert Storm."

Mac feigned shock but his cheeks reddened every so slightly. "Jo Danville, you are a wicked, wicked woman." Mac turned to the others who were looking a little shell-shocked at the unusually playful banter between their two supervisors. "Come on then. It looks like I'm buying."

Danny, Lindsay and Sheldon froze for a moment as they put two and two together and came up with five then Adam muttered in hushed tones. "Whoa! She really has read our secret FBI files."

**The End**


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